


nothing else will do

by zarryenthusiast (soloistharold)



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 13:18:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11185917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soloistharold/pseuds/zarryenthusiast
Summary: "Deep down he knows he should be following his own advice, he knows that the guilt already churning in his stomach will only grow worse the more time he spends with Zayn. But Zayn makes him not care about the consequences; Zayn makes him want to be selfish and kick and scream until he gets his way, until he gets Zayn for his very own. "OR:Zayn feels lost until he meets Harry at his best friend's wedding. Too bad Zayn's already in a relationship.





	1. The Wedding - Zayn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thezaynlife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thezaynlife/gifts).



> For the prompt "Liam and Louis are getting married and hired Harry to be their wedding photographer. During the wedding, he sees Zayn and starts unconsciously taking his picture more than the happy couple. Zayn is Liam's best man and Niall is Louis' best man and the two of them also are the wedding entertainment along with a playlist for when they need breaks. Zayn knows Harry has been taking his picture the entire time. Freddie is the ring bearer and Liam has already adopted him too so their family is complete." I hope it meets your expectations.  
> Thank you so much to my lovely beta Stevie for putting up with what felt like thousands of emails i sent to you, you were a big big help.  
> This is my first ever fic and was a lot of fun to write. I should mention that this fic is entirely self indulgent, and if you have an issue with infidelity you probably won't like this at all, so be warned.  
> Title from 'Meet Me In The Hallway' by Harry Styles

The morning of his best mate’s wedding, Zayn wakes to the feeling of a warm body pressed against his. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and rolls over to check the time on his phone, his heart falling when he realizes he only has another ten minutes of sleep before his alarm goes off. He turns back around to see his girlfriend, Perrie, blinking up at him sleepily. 

“Mornin’ Pez,” he says, leaning forward to give her a quick peck.

“Ugh, go brush your teeth babe, your breath is rank!” she squeals, wrinkling her nose. Zayn sighs, but gets up and pads into the adjoining bathroom. He closes the door behind him and rubs his hands over his face. Zayn reaches out to grab his toothbrush out of a little white toothbrush holder on the counter. 

Not for the first time, Zayn marvels at how much nicer everything is since he started living with Perrie. It’s not like he was living in a dump before, he had been raised in a household full of women after all, but he had certainly never owned a toothbrush holder when he had lived alone, and his towels had never been so dry or clean smelling since Perrie started badgering him about hanging them up after every use instead of just dumping them on the floor like he’d grown accustomed to. 

After he finishes brushing his teeth he pokes his head out of the door and says, “are you sure you can’t just call in sick or summat?” Perrie is scrawling through her phone and frowns when he speaks.

“No babe I told you, I absolutely cannot miss this meeting today. I can’t just drop everything for a wedding.” Zayn sighs in frustration. Perrie has been working overtime at her advertising firm trying to get a long-deserved promotion, and due to stress, is prone to snapping at Zayn over the smallest of things. It’s not that he doesn’t want her to be successful, he just wishes she’d make more time for him. 

He finds it odd that she hadn’t expressed any annoyance at not being able to go though. Normally Perrie loves weddings, and would always be so upset if she wasn’t able to attend. This should have been Zayn’s first clue that something was amiss. 

He himself isn’t really fond of weddings. He’s well into that stage of his relationship where he should be considering popping the question, but every time he’s entertained the thought of a future with Perrie, he’s seen nothing but vast stretches of empty, gray nothingness. Weddings only serve as a reminder of what he ought to want out of his relationship, and yet every time he sees Liam’s invitation tacked up on the refrigerator, his stomach fills with guilt. It’s been a common feeling these past few months.

Zayn sighs before turning on the water and stepping into the shower. He allows the hot water to cascade down his back for a bit, trying to get a few minutes of relaxation in before he begins what is sure to be a very long day. After he finishes showering he shaves, and gets dressed in his only suit and gets Perrie to help him with his tie. 

He yelps when he sees what time it is; he only has ten minutes before he has to be at the train station or risk being catastrophically late for his best friend’s wedding. He does his best to style his chin length black hair, opting for an artfully disheveled do that Perrie likes to call his “off-duty model” look. He pecks her on the cheek before rushing out the door.

-

Liam is nervous. 

“I can’t,” he wails, his face buried in his hands. “I love Louis so much but I think it’s too soon.”

Zayn has tried his very best to get him to calm down, but Liam won’t stop babbling about how he’s going to fuck it up and how he isn’t sure he’s ready for the commitment. Zayn can’t help but roll his eyes; Liam had adopted Louis’ four-year-old, Freddie, almost as soon as they had gotten engaged a year ago. Louis had gotten his high school girlfriend, Briana, pregnant and they had gotten Freddie as a result. Briana left him and Freddie a few months after the birth and hadn’t been heard from since. And besides, Liam has been talking about marriage since they were children playing in the sand box at school. They had bonded over comic books and their mutual dislike of noisy people, which is why it had been quite a shock when Liam fell head over heels for the obnoxious boy on their floor at Uni. Zayn wasn’t sure why, but Louis was able to bring Liam out of his shell in a way that Zayn never could. He had been a bit jealous at first that his best friend’s attention was now being divided between him and this other boy, but soon he grew to love Louis like a brother. Zayn figured there wasn’t anyone readier to get married than Liam.

“Liam, bro, you’re freakin’ out over nothing.” Zayn rubs his back soothingly. “I have never seen any two people more perfect for each other than the two of you. I mean you adopted his kid for fuck’s sake, before you were even married!”

Liam sniffles. “Still, we had a good thing going when we were engaged. I’m worried marriage will fuck everything up. I’ve built up the idea of getting married for so long, what if it’s not everything I had hoped it would be? I don’t think I could live with that.”

“Liam,” Zayn says seriously, putting his hands on Liam’s shoulders, “Louis may be wild, but has he ever let you down? Has he ever made you doubt your relationship or how much he loves you? He trusted you enough to adopt Freddie, and if that isn’t enough of a sign that the two of you should get hitched, then I’m sorry mate, but the rest of us are doomed.” He tries not to think about him and Perrie. Liam lets out a long-suffering sigh. 

“Yeah I guess you’re right.” He smiles up at Zayn, his warm brown eyes still shining with tears. 

“Alright then, let’s get you hitched!” Zayn helps Liam get ready, and before long it’s time for Zayn to head to the chapel.

-

The wedding guests are settling into their seats when Zayn enters the chapel. He greets Liam’s sisters as he takes his place at the altar to wait for Louis and Liam to be lead in by their parents. He’s adjusting his tie when he notices the photographer at the far end of the room taking far too many pictures of him. Zayn raises an eyebrow at the man, but continues primping. He can’t help but watch the man as he moves around the room taking pictures of the guests, though. There’s something about the way the man is so enraptured with his work that Zayn finds intriguing. He wishes he felt the same about his job, but working at a bar had long ago stopped being exciting and started being tedious. There were only so many times he could see drunk people make a fool of themselves before he felt like he’d seen it all. And his music … well, he’s wanted to be a singer for as long as he could remember, but recently the words haven’t been coming to him, and he’s felt lost without something or someone to inspire him.

Perrie used to be his main source of inspiration in the early days of their relationship, but in recent months the urge to write about her has dwindled into nothingness. 

When the man finally lowers his camera, Zayn is taken aback by his youth. He’s surely no older than 25, but with dimples like those it’s hard to tell. He takes a moment to appreciate the man’s appearance. He’s dressed in a loose, expensive-looking shirt and dress pants that hug his thighs but flare out a bit at the bottom, making his legs look miles long. His hair curls softly around his ears and neck, a few strands falling into his eyes. He looks absolutely ravishing. The man looks up and catches Zayn’s eye, but instead of looking away and blushing, he holds his gaze. 

Zayn can’t pinpoint what it is, but something about the man intrigues him. Maybe it’s those long lean legs, or that sinful mouth or that look in those wide green eyes that almost dare Zayn to come closer, to find out more. Zayn has half a mind to go over there, emboldened by the man’s unwavering stare, when Niall, Louis’ best man, dashes into the room, suit disheveled and glasses askew. 

Zayn is about to greet him when the wedding music starts up and the Priest, followed by Louis’ littlest siblings, Ernest and Doris, make their way down the aisle, throwing rose petals this way and that. A chorus of awws follow, as Freddie waddles down the aisle clutching a red cushion - atop which lie two rings - in his chubby toddler hands. Louis is lead in a minute later by his weeping mum and step-dad, soon followed by Liam and his parents. Zayn smiles with pride as he watches his best friend get married.

-

The ceremony is short but sweet, and Zayn is loath to admit he was in tears by the end of it. He helps Liam to usher everyone out of the chapel so the families could take pictures with the grooms on the front steps. It takes the better part of an hour to get the guests into their cars and to the hotel where the reception is being held. 

The room is decorated quite simply, with lilies adorning each table as centerpieces and white and gold balloons floating around the room. There is pretty blue and white china set up at every table along with crisp white place cards denoting everyone’s seat. Zayn walks around the room searching for his place card. He’s pleased to find that he’s sat with Niall and a few of Louis’ friends from uni. If nothing else, he can always count on Niall to be entertaining. 

There is a garden to the right of the main entrance, but Liam and Louis had opted not to set up an outdoor area; it’s nearing the end of February, and it’s still far too cold to be outside. The hotel had arranged the garden as usual though, so the footpaths were lined with small unlit lanterns, which are sure to make the garden quite romantic. Zayn’s itching for a smoke, but he forces himself to wait. He’s been trying to limit himself to just one cigarette a day, and he has the nagging feeling that he’ll be needing it later in the night.

There is a small makeshift stage at the far end of the room, close to where he is sat, where he and Niall are to perform later in the evening. Niall is a music teacher at a London college not too far from where Zayn works, and loves performing at small bars around the city on weekends. Zayn’s sure that Liam and Louis were thrilled that they wouldn’t have to pay for live music, seeing as their two best friends loved singing. Zayn hates public speaking though, so he had managed to convince Liam to get his close friend Andy to do a speech instead of him.

Zayn digs his phone out of his pocket and snaps a picture of the room to send to Perrie. He receives a text back a few minutes later simply reading “cute.” Zayn scoffs. Puppies are cute, small children are cute. Wedding receptions aren’t cute. He longs for the time when he and Pez were inseparable and would text each other cute nonsense all day. Now he’s lucky if he gets more than a one word text out of her. He pockets his phone and wanders over to the stage where Niall is tuning his guitar.

“You ready mate?” Zayn asks, clapping Niall on the back. 

“Yeah, ‘m looking forward to it. I haven’t had a lot of time to perform lately; work’s been hectic with exams and all.”

“What’re you performing?” he asks.

“Oh, this and that. Thinking of doing a couple of me own songs.”

“Sounds good,” Zayn replies. “I was thinking of performing a few of my own too. Figured it’d be a good chance to get them out there.”

“Oh yeah, how’s the music coming?” Niall asks. “Louis says you’ve been writing.” 

“It’s all right I guess. I’ve been having a bit of trouble finding inspiration you know. I’m sure I’ll get over it soon though, slumps like these are pretty common, right?” 

“I suppose. Never really had trouble with that meself, but I guess it’s different for everyone.” He steps up to the microphone and introduces himself.

“Good evening, ladies and gents. Me names’ Niall Horan and I’m one of the best men. Me and Zayn, the other best man, will be performing a few songs for you all tonight. I’ll be startin’ us off with a little song of mine called ‘This Town.’ Would the grooms please make their way to the dance floor.”

Zayn smiles as the opening bars to Niall’s song start up and Louis leads Liam onto the floor. Of all the weddings Zayn’s been to over the years, this one is definitely his favorite. He’s swaying absentmindedly to Niall’s deep, crooning voice when he notices the photographer a few meters away snapping shot after shot of him. Zayn frowns. It’s not that he minds having his picture taken occasionally at a social event or whatever, but he figures he’s filled his quota for the night. He considers going over and confronting the man, but thinks better of it. He’s probably just being vain and the man isn’t even taking his photo. He refocuses on Niall as he starts up a song with a more seductive beat. Before long Niall’s set is over and it’s Zayn’s turn to perform. 

Wiping his hand on his trousers, Zayn hops onstage and walks over to the mic. 

“Um, hello. My name’s Zayn. Zayn Malik. First off I’d like to congratulate the newlyweds. Liam, as your best man I can honestly say I’ve never seen you this happy. Tonight I’ll be performing a few original songs for you, I hope you enjoy.” Zayn wipes his clammy hands on his suit trousers again as the opening bars for the first song play. As much as he loves to sing he doubts he’ll ever stop being nervous standing in front of an audience like this. He even puked once in year nine before he had to go on stage to perform at the school’s talent show.  
He closes his eyes as he sings, determined to pour his heart into this song for the sake of his best friend. He hears a few sighs from the wedding guests and fights off a smile. The soaring notes of “Blue” are always a crowd pleaser. He opens his eyes to find the cute photographer staring at him mouth agape, his camera lying forgotten against his chest despite the guests dancing around him. For reasons Zayn doesn’t particularly want to explore, he holds the man’s gaze until the end of the song. He forces himself to tear his eyes away as he launches into a rendition of “Fool for You,” not quite sure he wants to engage in a full-on staring match in the middle of his set. He can’t help but sneak glances at the man throughout the rest of his performance, though; something about the way the man’s green eyes sparkle in this lighting mesmerizes him, and he finds himself staring at his chest for longer than he should. 

The guests applaud as he finishes his set, and Zayn tries not to run offstage once he sees Niall beckoning to him at a nearby table.  
“Great set mate,” Niall says, clapping Zayn on the back. “Now what do you say we get a drink? I’m completely knackered.” Zayn nods in relief as Niall leads him over to the bar and orders them both a pint. 

“So I see you’ve noticed Harry,” Niall asks amusedly.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, me mate Harry. The photographer. I saw you two staring at each other all through your performance,” Niall smirks. Zayn can see Harry lingering at the edge of his periphery taking photos of a group of guests. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Zayn replies, trying to be nonchalant. 

“Oh come off it, he’s been following you around all night like a lost puppy taking your picture and what not, and I know you’ve noticed him,” Niall says raising an eyebrow. 

“He’s attractive is all. Anyways I’m with Perrie,” Zayn murmurs, scuffing his old dress shoes against the floor. Niall scoffs.

“As if that ever stopped you before.” Niall says. Zayn squawks indignantly.

“I’m faithful to Perrie thank you very much.” Niall raises his eyebrow again and takes a big sip of his beer. Sure, Zayn had some … mishaps in the early days of their relationship, but he had been young and very stupid then. He had fooled around with strangers he’d picked up at bars and occasionally got off with friends when he was drunk. Which was a lot during uni. But he was mature now. He had a job and no matter what they were going through, he’s been trying his hardest not to do that to Perrie again. Plus, fantasizing and the occasional flirtation at a bar didn’t count as cheating … right?

“Whatever you say mate, just be careful. I love you and Harry t’ death but he’s known for chasing after people he shouldn’t and the way tonight’s been going -”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off,” Zayn interrupts, downing half of his beer. “I’m going outside for a smoke.” He needs some fresh air, and to maybe not look at Niall for a bit. He sees way too much.

Zayn feels himself relax as smoke fills his lungs. The hotel staff must have lit the lanterns once the sun went down, and Zayn is struck once again by how beautiful it all is. He watches as the puffs of smoke twist and curl in the light breeze, relishing this moment of peace. It’s interrupted, however, by the sound of the sliding glass door opening and closing behind him. Somehow, Zayn knows who it is before he sees him.

“It’s peaceful out here isn’t it,” says a deep, raspy voice. Zayn turns, not at all surprised to see Harry. The dim lights of the lanterns illuminate the contours of his face; he looks beautiful. 

“Yeah. Sometimes you just need a break from it all, you know?” Zayn responds, turning his attention back to the garden. 

“You have a beautiful voice,” Harry says. Zayn can feel Harry’s eyes on him as his lips close around the cigarette once more.

“Thanks,” Zayn says. He knows he’s not doing much to further the conversation, but part of him wants to see how far Harry will go to keep talking to him, part of him wants to see Harry squirm.

“I’m Harry,” he says. 

“Zayn,” he responds curtly. He turns to look at Harry. “How do you know Niall?”

“Niall mentioned me?” Harry asks in surprise. “We were friends in College. He moved down to Cheshire from Ireland and we became friends. He’s the one who got me this gig.”

“Cool.”  
“What do you do?” Wow. Harry must really want to talk to him.

“I work at a bar in London, but I’m really a singer, or trying to be.”

“Were those your own songs you performed? I thought they were beautiful.”

“Yeah, most of them are. Working on writing some more at the moment.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that going?” For some reason, Zayn wants to be honest. For some reason, he wants to tell Harry about how he’s been in a slump for months and he doesn’t know what to do. He wants to tell Harry about his relationship and how hopeless he feels because he’s not entirely certain he’s still madly in love with his girlfriend. He wants Harry to wrap him up in his arms and pull him up against his broad chest and tell him everything will be all right. He wants Harry to take away all his hurt and confusion and guilt and make him feel something good again. He wants Harry to kiss him. But he doesn’t say any of this. 

“Fine.”

“Good.” Harry pauses. “Do you want me to leave? I didn’t mean to intrude -”

“Do you want to dance?” Zayn interrupts, dropping his cigarette on the ground and stamping it out with the toe of his shoe.

“What?” Harry says, surprised. 

“Do you want to dance?” Zayn repeats, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes.”

Zayn takes Harry’s hand and leads them inside. Harry’s hands are large and warm and Zayn finds them strangely comforting. He finds them a spot in the center of the floor and tugs Harry close to his chest, one hand winding around Harry’s waist and the other grasping Harry’s hand firmly. Zayn can feel him breathing heavily into his ear, clearly enjoying their proximity. It shouldn’t be enough to turn Zayn on, but he finds his mind going places it really shouldn’t while he’s in public.

They sway on the spot, and Zayn swears he can feel Harry’s heartbeat against his chest. He lets his fingers trail slowly down Harry’s lower back until they reach the top of his arse, then pauses, as though waiting for permission. Harry’s soft intake of breath is permission enough for Zayn. He reaches down to palm Harry’s arse, guiding Harry’s body closer to his, secretly glad for the throng of sweaty bodies surrounding them, all of which are too preoccupied with their own partners to take notice. 

Zayn can feel himself start to harden in his pants as Harry leans down to whisper in his ear. “Are you here with anyone?” 

Technically Zayn isn’t lying when he responds with a quiet no. He feels Harry smile against his cheek, and he tilts his hips forward, just enough that their bodies are touching from the tops of their chests to the middle of their thighs, as if to let Zayn know that Harry is definitely interested in taking this somewhere else.

“Do you want to get out of here, find someplace … quieter?” The implication is not lost on Zayn, and he nods, eager to be alone with Harry. He guides Harry out of the room and down a series of hallways until they find a disabled toilet in a more secluded part of the hotel. 

“How do you know your way around here so well?” Harry asks. “Have you been here before?”

“Yeah, once with my girlfriend on some weekend getaway thing. I was the one who suggested this place to Liam for their reception.” Zayn answers absentmindedly.

“Wait. Your girlfriend?” Harry says, confusion written all over his face. Fuck. “You said you didn’t come with anyone.”

“I didn’t. She had to work.” Zayn replies, looking at him expectantly. Right, Perrie. He’d almost forgotten about her. He wouldn’t blame Harry if he ran back to the party and forgot about Zayn altogether. “Is that an issue?”

Harry contemplates this for a second, his eyes trained on Zayn’s lips. He shakes his head.

He grabs Harry by his shoulders and surges forward to kiss him, suddenly desperate to feel Harry’s mouth on his. Harry responds enthusiastically, pushing Zayn against the door and fumbling around for the doorknob. Finally, he’s able to get the door open and Harry pushes him inside and turns him around so his back hits the door once it closes. Zayn can’t help the gasp that escapes his mouth. It’s nice to let someone else be in charge on occasion, even if it’s only for a little while. Their mouths move desperately against one another as their hips grind together in search of more friction.

Harry is a very tender kisser, his mouth soft but urgent, and Zayn can’t wait to get it around his dick. It seems like Harry has read his mind, because only moments later he feels Harry’s fingers fumbling with his belt as he’s kissing Zayn’s neck. Zayn can feel himself hardening in his pants, already so needy for Harry’s touch. His head thuds against the door as Harry undoes his belt and unzips his trousers, his fingers teasing along the waistband of his boxers before pushing them down too. The room may be dark, but Zayn can still sense Harry’s wicked smile against his neck, and can only imagine how pink Harry’s lips must look. He feels Harry’s mouth detach from his neck and nearly whimpers at the loss of contact. 

Zayn can hear a soft thud as Harry sinks to his knees in front of him, one hand gripping Zayn’s hips and the other wrapping around the base of his cock. He moans as he hears the slick sound of Harry licking his lips, as though preparing to consume a delicious meal. Zayn’s head thuds against the door as he feels the first tentative lick at the head of his cock, his eyes squeezing shut in preparation of what is to come. He doesn’t remember the last time he wanted someone this much.

Harry’s great at sucking cock; he knows when to take Zayn in as far as his throat will allow, when to suck harder, and when to pull back and use his hand while his mouth focuses on the head. Zayn tries his best to stay quiet but ultimately fails as he falls victim to the intense, wet heat of Harry’s luscious mouth. He moans loudly as Harry reaches back to fondle his balls, not worried about others hearing them. Harry’s other hand grips Zayn’s arse as though urging Zayn to fuck into his mouth. And soon, Zayn obliges, his will power waning as he gets closer and closer to climaxing. 

Once Harry understands what Zayn’s about to do, he sits back on his heels to let Zayn do all the work, barely gagging as Zayn’s cock hits the back of his throat. Zayn’s hands slide into Harry’s curls, holding his head in place as he fucks into his mouth. It’s all over soon. Harry reaches around to slide a dry finger against Zayn’s rim, and Zayn barely manages to pull out in time, striping come along Harry’s lips and across his cheeks. 

Sated, Zayn slumps against the door, panting, before coming to and finding some toilet paper to clean Harry’s face. Harry whimpers and begins to palm at his cock, which is straining uncomfortable against his trousers. He’s about to kneel in front of him and lend a hand, but Harry just rests his forehead against Zayn’s stomach and pulls his cock out of his pants, tugging himself off in short, tight strokes of his spit-slick hand. Zayn strokes Harry’s hair as his breaths get faster and more urgent as he nears his climax, delighting in Harry’s moans as he comes all over his fist. The sounds Harry makes as he comes are almost enough to get Zayn hard again, but he wills himself to stay soft, unsure of how far he’s willing to go with this man he barely knows.

He waits until Harry’s breathing has evened out before gently maneuvering him away and pulling up his trousers. Harry gets up off the floor and zips himself up before leaning in and giving Zayn a tender peck on the lips. He slips out of the room without another word.  
Zayn is left stunned. 

It’s not until he’s headed home that the guilt hits him, like a big heavy rock in the pit of his stomach.

-

Zayn’s drunk when he returns home that night. It’s well past midnight and he can hear the drunken chatter of a group of men as he stumbles towards the door of his apartment. After he had cleaned himself up, he returned to the bar and downed several whiskeys, determined to try and drink away the memory of Harry’s mouth. He fumbles with his key for a second, cursing loudly when he drops them. Perrie will kill him if he wakes her up this early. Finally, he gets the key into the lock and pushes the door open, cursing once again when the door bangs against the wall. He toes off his shoes and discards his suit jacket on the kitchen table before getting himself a glass of water. 

Zayn leans against the counter and rubs his hands over his face trying to compose himself before he enters their bedroom. Once he’s certain he’s sobered up enough he tiptoes to their room and opens the door as quietly as he can. He can see a pile of blankets on the right side of the bed that conceal Perrie’s sleeping form. Like this, when all is quiet, he can almost pretend that he is happy, that he is still in love with Perrie. 

Almost.

He sighs before entering their bathroom and washing his face with warm water and some fancy facewash Perrie made him buy. He supposes he can’t complain, his skin has never been clearer. 

Zayn re-enters the bedroom to find a bleary eyed Perrie watching him.

“Sorry babe, did I wake you?” Zayn whispers. 

“It’s fine. How was it?” Perrie asks rubbing her eyes tiredly. Zayn crosses the room and discards his shirt and trousers before climbing into bed next to Perrie.

“It was beautiful,” he responds finally. He knows she won’t want to hear more than that. “How was your meeting?”

“Oh, it was fine, you know, the usual.” She sniffs at him suspiciously. “You smell strange, what were you doing?”

“Nothing, I danced a bit that’s all, got a bit sweaty.” Zayn answers. 

“You never dance.”

“Yeah well, I figured I ought to this time, you know because it was Liam’s wedding and all.” Once Perrie’s turned back around he sniffs himself. His heart sinks when he realizes he reeks of sex and sweat. She isn’t oblivious, he knows she smelled it on him. Fuck. 

“Oh yeah? Who’d you dance with?” She says, startling him. He thought she’d gone back to sleep. Zayn can tell she wants to ask something else. 

“Oh no one really,” he replies carefully. “Just this guy.”

“Oh that’s nice,” Perrie says sleepily. Her voice is barely audible over the mountain of blankets covering her. 

“Yeah, he was the photographer, actually, an old friend of Niall’s. I don’t know, it was no big deal.” He doesn’t know why he’s talking about it. Maybe because it won’t feel real if he doesn’t. But he can’t let himself dwell on it, he can’t. His brain isn’t cooperating though; all he can think about is Harry’s deep voice, and his dimples, and the way his lips wrapped around his cock ...

Okay. Maybe he’ll give himself tonight to think about it, if only because Harry’s scent still lingers on his skin. But tomorrow … well tomorrow is a new day, a new Zayn. Tomorrow he will be a good boyfriend to Perrie, he will be a songwriter who actually writes songs, he will be a man who doesn’t fantasize about his past hookups, no matter how … tempting the idea may be. 

If only he could follow through.


	2. Zayn

It’s a week later when the shrill ring of his phone wakes Zayn. Perrie groans loudly next to him, prompting Zayn to scramble to answer it. A sleepy Perrie means a grumpy, argumentative Perrie, and that’s not something Zayn is willing to deal with so early on a Sunday morning. Things haven’t exactly been great between them since the wedding. Perrie won’t let on whether she suspects that Zayn cheated on him, but he’s been trying to be more patient with her and go out of his way to do things around their place. Although really it could be the out-of-the-blue helpfulness that’s making Perrie suspicious.

“What?” he croaks into the phone.

“So we just got the pictures back from the wedding, and guess what we found?” says the slightly exasperated voice of Liam Payne.

“What?” Zayn repeats, not at all in the mood for a lengthy conversation.

“Nearly all of them were of you.” What? That’s enough to wake Zayn up.

“What do you mean they were nearly all of me? How is that possible it wasn’t my fucking wedding was it?” he asks agitatedly.

“I mean what I said. You were in nearly all the pictures except the ones that were just of me and Louis and the ones with our families.” Liam says.

“Oh please.”

“I’m not joking,” Liam says seriously.

“Oh god. I’m so sorry, I’m going to kill Harry.” Zayn says. He’ll have to ask Niall for Harry’s number; they never got around to exchanging them at the wedding.

“No, no don’t worry, Louis’ already taken care of that. Also … Harry? I didn’t know you two were on a first name basis.” Liam says.

“Later,” Zayn warns, knowing Liam will take that to mean he can’t discuss it. “So how did Louis take it?”

“Well, he cursed you and your, and I quote, ‘stupid fucking cheekbones’ and called Harry a string of names I won’t repeat. But finally, I got him to calm down and he’s no longer cursing your existence,” Liam chuckles.

“Fuck mate, I’m so sorry.” Zayn knows it’s bad when Louis starts swearing off his cheekbones.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault.” Liam sighs. “Alright, I’m sure I’ve just woken you up so I’ll let you get back to sleep.” Zayn hangs up and buries his face in his hands. He had sworn himself to secrecy about the whole Harry incident and had vowed to do better by Perrie, but he had to talk to Harry about this, and he knew that he’d be sucked in by Harry’s charm. Fuck, when did his life become such a mess?

He has half a mind to crawl back into bed and try to forget Harry ever entered his life, but he knows its futile. He has to talk to Harry, if only to ask him why he did what he did and ruin Liam and Louis’ wedding photos. He texts Niall about getting Harry’s number and is surprised when Niall answers him seconds later.

‘ _No can do mate. Harry’s really picky about who he gives his number to. If you really need to talk to him though he’s coming ‘round mine for a party on Friday if you wanna come’_ it reads. A party with Harry sounds like a bad idea, especially considering who’s hosting. Any party thrown by Niall is guaranteed to have even the most experienced drinkers vomiting in the bushes by the end of the night. And Zayn is trying to be faithful, so drinking around Harry would be counterproductive. Maybe if he brought Perrie? No. That would surely end in disaster. One drink too many from the wrong mouth could send everything Zayn’s built for himself crashing down. He’ll have to brave it on his own. _Fine._ He replies. _But I’m not bringing you anything and i’m leaving early._

He crawls back into bed and pulls the duvet over his head. This is going to be a long week.

\--

Friday comes around in a flurry of anxiety and guilt. He’s been consistent with being helpful around their apartment, to the point that Perrie no longer seems to be suspicious of him. She must figure something must have clicked in his brain to make him stop being such an irresponsible git, but all that’s done is worsen Zayn’s guilt. How could he have ever cheated on Perrie when she’s been so kind and trusting? God he’s an arse.

_And anyhow, Harry really isn’t all that great, is he?_ Zayn tries to convince himself. _I mean yeah, he’s really cute and he can suck cock like a fucking champ, but is he really worth all this guilt and anxiety and the pain Perrie will feel if this all comes out?_ His question is answered several times over throughout the course of the night.

Zayn stands in front of his bathroom mirror teasing his hair, trying to ignore why he is putting such painstaking effort into his appearance tonight.

“So, tell me why it is I can’t come again,” Perrie asks reproachfully, crossing her arms across her torso as she leans against the doorframe.

“I told you,” Zayn answers distractedly. “It’s just the lads tonight.” He turns and brushes past Perrie and makes his way to his closet, pulling out shirts before discarding them on the bed. He finally settles on a tight, black button up that accentuates the broadness of his shoulders.

“Why are you putting so much effort into what you’re wearing then?” She says as she watches him make a mess of their bedroom.

“What’re you implying Perrie? God! Can’t I want to look nice for once?” Zayn says exasperatedly. He instantly feels bad.

“I didn’t mean to -”

“You know what? Save it.” He grabs his leather jacket, his wallet, and his phone before turning to Perrie and saying: “I’ll be home late, don’t wait up.” He finds great satisfaction in slamming the door behind him as he leaves his apartment.

\--

The party is in full swing as Zayn is let in to Niall’s apartment. He pushes his way through the sweaty masses to discard his jacket in Niall’s bedroom before looking for Niall. He finds him in the kitchen laughing with a group of his mates from work.

“Zayn! You made it!” Niall cheers when he spots Zayn. He can’t help but grin. Niall’s a happy guy when he’s sober, but when he’s drunk he’s like a child on Christmas morning.

“Yeah, yeah. So, um, have you seen Harry?” Zayn asks.

“Cutting right to the chase eh? Have a drink first, loosen up. You look tense as a board. Wait! No that’s stiff.” Niall ponders this before shaking his head. “I don’t know what you say when someone looks tense. Whatever, do a couple tequila shots with me and it’ll sort ya right out.” Zayn sighs but he agrees easily. He knows he’ll need to have at least one drink in him before he works up the courage to confront Harry.

-

It’s an hour later and Zayn’s smashed. One round of tequila shots had turned into two and now Zayn’s wandering around the apartment looking for Harry. Zayn finds him in a corner of the living room chatting to a group of people. Harry’s magnetic, Zayn notes. Everyone in his vicinity seems drawn to the slow drawl of his voice, staring in awe of the man stood before them.

Zayn understands, he himself felt almost … _special_ to be the center of Harry’s attention. He had felt as though he was the only person in the world Harry wanted to talk to, as if he was the only person that mattered. He’s never felt like that before. He feels an irrational flare of jealousy ignite in his chest as he watches them; he doesn’t want Harry to be paying attention to these other people, he wants Harry here, with him.

He pauses for a moment to slick his hair back and walks carefully over to the group, trying to seem cool and collected. So of course, that’s when he stumbles and nearly lands face first onto a couple making out on the couch. He hears Niall snickering from his spot leaning against the kitchen door, and scowls. He looks up to find Harry staring at him, eyes wide in disbelief. Zayn smooths down his shirt and takes the last couple of steps towards Harry.

“Harry, um, sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to you about something.” Judging by the amusement on Harry’s face, his slurring is worse than he thought. He has half a mind to just grab Harry by the wrist and pull him into Niall’s bedroom instead of bothering to repeat himself, but he opts for the less suggestive route of “we gotta talk.”

Harry excuses himself to the group and steps away, dragging Zayn with him.

“Hey Zayn,” Harry says with a grin. He looks good tonight, all dressed up in a sheer black shirt unbuttoned down to his navel and a skintight pair of jeans that give Zayn a faint glimpse of the outline of his dick. Zayn’s mouth waters at the sight. He wants to get on his knees for Harry, lick a stripe up his fat cock, maybe – he shakes his head. _Stop it Zayn_. As though reading his mind, Harry smirks and moves closer to Zayn.

“Wanna take this somewhere more private?” he whispers in Zayn’s ear. He can’t stop the shiver that runs down his spine, making his toes curl in his boots. He turns to look at Harry and groans at his shit eating grin. That’s _not_ why he came.

“We gotta talk,” he repeats. Harry trails his fingers down Zayn’s back to rest at the dip above his arse. He shivers again and leans into Harry’s warmth. “Okay.”

He can practically feel Niall’s eyes boring holes into his back as he lets Harry lead him into the nearest bedroom and lock the door behind them. He’s trying to think of the best way to broach the topic of the wedding photos, but his brain struggles to stay focused as Harry pulls him to his sturdy chest and kisses him.

He had tried his hardest this past week to forget what Harry’s lips felt like, but the memories come rushing back to him as he feels the first touch of Harry’s tongue. As their kiss becomes more passionate, Harry gets a bit rougher, as though sensing Zayn’s need to be manhandled like this; he often gets off to the thought of someone big and muscular pushing him against a wall and fucking him roughly, making him come so hard he wakes the neighbors. It’s a fantasy of his that’s never quite been fulfilled, but _boy_ does he hope Harry’s the one to do it.

Harry maneuvers him onto the bed and sits atop his thighs. Zayn looks down at him and tries to commit his appearance to memory. Harry’s hair is falling across his forehead and into his eyes, and his lips look swollen and red from all the kissing. Even in the darkness of the room, Zayn can tell how dilated Harry’s pupils are, how much Harry wants him.  Harry’s hands take an exploratory journey across the planes of Zayn’s chest, pausing momentarily to thumb at his nipples before unbuttoning his shirt and pushing the fabric aside to reveal his plethora of tattoos. Harry takes a moment to survey them before leaning down to press his lips softly against the red lips at the top of Zayn’s chest.

 Harry starts to move downwards, settling between his legs as he presses light kisses against Zayn’s burning skin, but stops when he reaches the top of Zayn’s belt, opting instead to suck a light mark against Zayn’s stomach. He knows Harry shouldn’t be leaving marks on his body for Perrie to find, but _god_ is it good. He moans and digs his fingers into Harry’s back before wrapping his legs around his waist, using his heels to try to pull Harry’s hips closer, desperate for more friction. Harry chuckles against his neck.

“What do you want?” Harry whispers.

“I want you to fuck me,” Zayn answers, surprised at his own brashness. Harry pulls away, assessing Zayn’s face, although Zayn is not quite sure what he’s looking for.

“Fuck, really?”

“Yeah, god, I need you,” Zayn says, a sudden desperate need to feel Harry’s cock inside him washing over him. Harry bites his lip.

“I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea.” Harry says, brow furrowed, tugging at his lower lip with his thumb and forefinger.

“Why not,” Zayn whines.

“You’re drunk. And as much as I want to fuck you I’d rather do it when you’re sober,” Harry reasons. Zayn grumbles in annoyance. Stupid responsibility. God, why does Harry have to be so … so … level headed?

“We can still get off though,” Harry says. “Just no … arse stuff for tonight.”

Zayn responds by reaching up to grab Harry’s face and bring it closer to his. He traces his tongue along Harry’s lower lip as his hands hurry to undo the buttons of his shirt. Thankfully, Harry doesn’t seem to like to button his shirts all the way, so it takes no time at all to get it off. Zayn hums appreciatively at Harry’s toned torso, before moving his hands further down to tackle his belt buckle. This prompts Harry to work open Zayn’s jeans, and in moments he’s pulling Zayn’s cock out of his briefs and thumbing along it’s tip.

Zayn moans and lets his hands still for a second as he relishes in the feeling of Harry’s rough fingertips along his cock. Harry stops for a moment to shuck off his shoes and rid himself and Zayn of their jeans before reclaiming his position above him. Their mouths clash together desperately and finally, _finally_ , their hips meet, grinding hot and dry against one another. It’s almost too much, and Zayn has to break away to pant “lube” against Harry’s mouth. Harry fumbles for his jeans and extracts a small packet from his wallet, ripping it open with his teeth and coating his fingers with it before wrapping his hand around Zayn’s cock.

He moans and begins to fuck up into the tight wet heat of Harry’s fist. Soon Harry’s hand opens to allow his cock to join Zayn’s and _god_ , the feeling of Harry’s dick sliding against his, occasionally catching at the tip, has his legs shaking in anticipation of his orgasm. There’s something incredibly sexy about hearing Harry’s moans in his ear mixing with the noise of the party still raging on in the background. A small part of Zayn wishes he could record the sound so he could play it back whenever he wanted to relive this moment.

He can feel Harry pick up the pace which elicits Zayn to do the same, their hips moving erratically against each other as they near the end. Harry comes with a loud moan, his arm shaking with the effort of holding himself over Zayn. All it takes is a few more jerks of Harry’s hand to get Zayn spilling all over his chest, his come mixing with Harry’s. At that Harry’s arm gives out and he collapses on top of Zayn with a satisfied sigh. They lie there for a few minutes, the air heavy with what just happened. Eventually Harry deigns to get off him and find some tissues to clean the drying come off their chests.

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” Harry says to break the silence. Right. The photos.

“Oh right. The wedding pictures. What happened?” Zayn responds, his mind still cloudy from his orgasm.

“I don’t know,” Harry says earnestly. “I honestly don’t remember taking them, but I guess I must have been following you all night. Did you notice?”

“I mean, I caught you watching me a few times and I definitely noticed you were taking a lot of pictures of me but I had no idea how many.” Zayn says.

“I guess this was bound to happen.” Harry says vaguely. “Nick always did say I tended to follow beautiful people.”

“Nick?”

“My, uh, friend? We live together.”

“Oh? Thought he might’ve been your boyfriend or something,” Zayn says. There’s a moments silence, and Zayn secretly hopes he isn’t.

“Well, we dated for a while a couple years ago, but there are no feelings anymore.” Harry answers finally. Zayn contemplates this for a second. He’d be willing to bet this Nick guy still has feelings for Harry, especially since they used to date. He wonders idly what Harry told Nick about him. If Harry bothered to mention him at all that is. Suddenly Zayn is filled with the burning need to know what Harry has said.

“Does he know about me?” Zayn asks, aiming for nonchalant.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Meaning?”

“He knows you exist as a person, but he kind of gets weird about me telling him about my hookups, so I didn’t really want to mention us fucking in a disabled toilet while your girlfriend was waiting for you at home.” Ouch. “Speaking of which, have you told your girlfriend?”

Zayn pulls a face, realizing he’d forgotten about Perrie. Again. Fuck. “No. Things were weird for a while but now they’re back to normal.”

“Then why are you here with me?”

“Because,” Zayn lets out a deep sigh, “I can’t stop thinking about you.” Harry falls silent and Zayn worries he’s said too much, his heart thudding in his chest as he waits for Harry’s reaction. But then.

“Me neither.”

Those two words reverberate in Zayn’s mind as lies awake in bed that night, listening to Perrie’s quiet breathing beside him. They had exchanged numbers before Harry slipped away to rejoin the party, leaving Zayn to sit half naked on the bed, trying to reconcile his guilt over cheating on Perrie again, with his budding feelings for Harry.

-

It’s a week before he sees Harry again. This time though, it’s under less than desirable conditions. They had been texting nonstop all week, and he had even invited Harry to a gig of his next week that he knew Perrie wasn’t planning on attending. Harry had responded with a simple _okay_ and a string of smiley face emojis, which made Zayn’s heart flutter with excitement.

They’re perusing the cereal section when Zayn spots him a little further down the aisle examining the pasta selection. He must make a sound because Harry lifts his head just as Zayn tries to turn away.

“Oh, hi there, Harry was it?” Zayn says, sliding an arm around Perrie’s shoulders silently pleading Harry to understand. God, why couldn’t he just shut up?

“Ah yes, we met at the wedding. You’re Zayn, right? Liam’s best man.” Harry answers, his eyes shifting from Zayn to Perrie.

“How do you know Liam?” Perrie asks, her voice devoid of suspicion. Zayn lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

“I was the photographer actually, but I’m good friends with Niall. He got me the job.” Harry replies. He’s avoiding Zayn’s eyes, but Zayn can see his hands fidgeting with one of the many rings on his fingers.

“Really? Zayn told me you two danced together.”

“Yes. We … danced.” Harry says, unsurely. Finally, he chances a glance at Zayn, his panic written all over his face.

“Well that’s nice,” Perrie says cheerfully. “Zayn’s kind of a terrible dancer though.” She laughs, leaning into Zayn’s side.

“Oh I don’t know,” Harry responds. “I never have an issue dancing with pretty men.” He stares Zayn right in the eye.

“Well we’d best be going, gotta get this ice cream in the freezer don’t we Pez?” Zayn says, desperate to get the two away from each other.

“All right, well I’ll see you around Zayn. It was lovely meeting you, ah -”

“Perrie.”

“It was lovely meeting you Perrie.” With that Harry grabs a random box of pasta off the shelf and hurries over to the checkout counter.

“He was lovely. Not very chatty though is he?” Perrie remarks as they finish their shopping.

“Yeah, um. Give me a moment will you babe?” Zayn hurries after Harry, catching him just as he steps onto the pavement outside the Tesco’s.

“Harry, wait! I just wanted to apologize for that.” Zayn says in a rush, putting his hand on Harry’s arm.

“Apologize for what?” Harry says agitatedly, pulling his arm out of Zayn’s grasp.

“Well, you know, for you having to meet Perrie.”

“And?”

“And, um, for pretending I didn’t really know you?”

“You don’t know me Zayn.”

“You know what I mean. For pretending we were virtually strangers. That I didn’t know you … intimately.”

“Oh grow up Zayn. I’m not mad at you for pretending we haven’t gotten off with each other behind your girlfriend’s back. I’m mad because you forced me to interact with her at all.” Harry spits. “I would have been perfectly happy to pretend we were strangers and ignore each other but no. You had to go and start a fucking conversation with me as though I wasn’t in a horrible position as it is. It’s not nice being the – the mistress and then having to meet the wife now is it?”

“Lower your voice,” Zayn responds, looking around frantically to make sure no one heard. “Look, I’m sorry, all right? I don’t know what I was thinking. It didn’t occur to me that you might live ‘round here and I might bump into you. I didn’t handle it well. I’m sorry.”

“No, you didn’t,” Harry sniffs, pulling his coat more tightly around himself.

“When can I see you again?”

“Are you really asking me that while your girlfriends inside paying for your food?” Harry asks incredulously.

“Can I call you at least?” Zayn asks desperately. He can’t lose Harry, not yet.

“Okay,” Harry concedes. “You’d better get back. She might wonder where you’ve gotten off to.”

“Call you tonight.” Zayn says, chancing a swift peck on Harry’s cheek and hurrying back inside to find Perrie.

“What was that about babe?” Perrie asks him.

“No, nothing. I just asked him if he could send me some of the wedding photos.” Zayn answers breezily as he helps empty their trolley onto the checkout counter.

“Why’d you give him a kiss on the cheek then?” she asks, refusing to look at him.

“He was being really accommodating, it was just a thank you.” Zayn sputters. Fuck. He hadn’t realized Perrie was watching them.

“Do you kiss everybody when you’re grateful?”

“C’mon Pez, don’t be like that. It was nothing.” Zayn insists. He tries to keep his face relaxed but his insides are churning like butter. She looks up at him, wide eyed and biting her lip with uncertainty.

“Promise?”

“Yeah, babe, I promise.” Zayn’s heart is heavy with guilt as they return to their apartment later that evening. He eats her out for an hour that night to try to make up for it. The way he sees it, if he can’t love Perrie the way she deserves to be loved, the least he can do is give her a good orgasm.

He calls Harry later that night as Perrie lays sleeping and satisfied in their room. The window in the guest bathroom is cracked open and moonlight spills onto Zayn’s face as he waits anxiously for Harry to pick up. Unease courses through his veins when Harry doesn’t pick up. He reasons that it must be because it’s quite late, but he can’t fight the small nagging feeling that Harry’s mad at him. He had picked up a strange vibe off Harry at the Tesco’s earlier. Was Harry ignoring him? Was this his way of telling Zayn to fuck off?

Panic rises in Zayn’s throat. It’s too soon to let go of Harry. He can’t just leave without Zayn getting a chance to really know him. He splashes some cold water on his face to try to calm himself down. He stares at his reflection in the mirror, not quite recognizing the desperate man that stares back.

_I just need to get some sleep and try again in the morning,_ Zayn tries to reason with himself. _If that doesn’t work, well, I can always coerce Niall into giving me his address. I can’t let him go without at least explaining the situation with Perrie._

No matter what Zayn tries to tell himself though, his mind can’t seem to calm down. He tosses and turns all night, desperate to get a start on the new day.


	3. Harry

Harry’s furious when he gets home, slamming the door to the apartment as he gets in. How dare Zayn do that to him, how dare he introduce him to his fucking girlfriend. Coils of guilt twist in Harry’s stomach as he remembers the friendly, unsuspecting smile on Perrie’s face. Who does Zayn think he is? Pretending he didn’t even remember Harry’s name and then try to arrange another hookup just meters away from his girlfriend?

“You all right?” Nick asks, entering the living room, eyebrows raised as he notices the waves of fury radiating off Harry.

“Fucking excellent,” Harry growls, kicking off his shoes and stalking past Nick to the kitchen. Nick trails behind him.

“You want some tea? You can tell me all about it,” Nick says, placing a soothing hand on Harry’s back. Harry relaxes slightly despite himself.

“Fine.” Harry goes back to the living room and plops down on the couch, wrapping himself in a blanket and hugging a pillow to his chest as he waits for Nick to return with his tea.

“All right love, what happened?” Nick asks, handing Harry a mug and sitting down next to him, one leg tucked under the other as he turns to face him.

“I ran into someone today,” Harry mumbles.

“Care to elaborate?” Nick says, rolling his eyes.

“Remember how I told you I hooked up with this guy at that wedding I shot recently? The gig Niall got me?” Nick nods. “Well I saw him at Niall’s party last week and we hooked up again. I knew he had a girlfriend, but I didn’t really mind ‘cos I figured I wouldn’t see him again. I mean we’ve been talking a lot this past week, but I don’t know, I didn’t think he cared all that much. Figured I was just someone to get off with when it’s convenient, you know?

“Well, I just ran into him and his girlfriend at Tesco’s, and he pretending he barely fucking remembered my name, but when I left the shop he came after me and begged to be allowed to see me again. I can’t believe him. His girlfriend was inside paying for their fucking food and he was out there with me trying to organize another hookup.”

“What an arse,” is all Nick says, gesturing at Harry to continue.

“I know! It’s like he thinks that just because he’s got a bloody beautiful face that he can do whatever the fuck he wants without facing any consequences. He barely even got why I was mad when I left the store, he’s that fucking oblivious to other people’s feelings.”

“Are you mad that he made you meet her or that you had to face her and now you feel guilty for sneaking behind her back?” Nick asks, raising his eyebrows at him.

“What?” Harry sputters. Does Nick not hear him?

“Well, Styles, it seems like you’re madder at the fact that you had to come face to face with the woman whose boyfriend you’ve been fucking than that he was being a dick, and now you’re mad because you were able to ignore it before but now it’s become real to you. Like, before you could forget she existed, but now there’s a face to the name and you’re stuck with a guilty conscience.” Oh.

“ _Nick_ ,” Harry whines. “You’re supposed to let me vent.”

“I am, I’m just saying that maybe you should examine why you’re really angry here.”

“It seems like you like this guy, if your reaction is anything to go by.” Nick continues, taking a sip of his tea. “I know this isn’t the first time you’ve hooked up with someone in a relationship, and I know that you’ve even met their significant others before. You’ve even gone as far as to have dinner with them and their families for fuck’s sake – remember that time with, what was his name? Ben? So it seems like you’re just upset because you’ve come to the realization that this guy probably won’t be leaving his girlfriend for you anytime soon - hell he might not even have come to terms with not being straight for all I know - and you want him to want you more than he wants her.” Harry contemplates this. Sure, Zayn is beautiful and has a voice like honey that makes Harry weak in the knees, but he doesn’t really care all that much, does he?

… Does he?

Fuck.

“Oh god Nick,” Harry groans, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Nick’s shoulder. “What have I gotten myself into?”

“It’s all right babe. It happens to the best of us.” Nick strokes his back, trying to calm him down.

“I think I really like him. What do I do?”

“He’s in a relationship Harry, do you really want to get involved in something as messy as that? I mean clearly the man’s got emotional problems.”

“No. But I want to see him again and forget that woman exists,” he pouts. He knows he’s being an unreasonable arse, but _fuck_ , never has he felt so much desire for another person, especially not for someone he barely knows. He wants to be selfish and gather Zayn up and lock him in his room so he never has to share him with anyone else ever again.

“Why don’t you sleep on it babe, and decide what to do in the morning.” Nick suggests.

A moment later Harry receives a call. Instinct tells him it’s Zayn, but he forces himself to wait it out. He’s not ready to talk, not matter how much he may want to hear Zayn’s voice. They order a pizza and stay in the rest of the night watching rom coms because Harry loves them. Nick is the best.

Harry turns his head to stare at Nick’s profile as The Notebook plays on the TV. Why couldn’t he have fallen in love with Nick? Nick’s easy to be with; there’s never any drama with him and he treats Harry well, plus the sex had been good while it lasted. Harry hadn’t felt a spark, though, and it had fizzled out after only a couple of months.

“Stop looking at me,” he mumbles, sensing Harry’s stare.

Harry receives no more than 15 calls from Zayn that night, but he ignores all of them, opting instead to stuff his face with pizza. That is until he gets a call from Niall.

“Hey Niall,”

“You’ve got to call Zayn back,” Niall says in lieu of a greeting.

“Pardon?” Harry leaves the room, unsure that he heard Niall correctly. He stands in the hallway, covering his left ear with his hand to drown out the sound of the TV.

“He’s driving me insane, saying he’s been calling you all night but you haven’t been picking up.”

“I’ve got my reasons Niall,” Harry says, his brow furrowed. What the fuck is Zayn doing dragging Niall into their issues?

“I’m sure you do, but he seems a proper mess. Please just talk to him, even if it’s just to tell him to fuck off.” Harry sighs in resignation.

“Fine, tell him I’ll call him tomorrow morning.” Harry hangs up the phone and rubs his hands over his face. What has he gotten himself into?

He tosses and turns all night, debating what to say to Zayn. He wants to be firm but reasonable, he wants to explain that as much as he likes Zayn, he doesn’t think he can be involved with him while he’s with Perrie.

He sleeps fitfully, and wakes up far too early. He spends his morning trying to go over the concepts for an upcoming shoot, but his mind is on Zayn.

Finally, he gives up and dials Zayn’s number, locking himself in the bathroom and running the tap so Nick won’t overhear. He loves Nick to death, but he’s a nosy fucker at the best of times.

 “Harry?” Zayn picks up on the first ring.

“Yeah,” Harry replies, his voice cold. _That’s it Harry, stay strong._

“Oh god. Harry I’m so sorry -”

“I wasn’t sure whether I should call you,” Harry interrupts.

“Harry please let me explain -”

“Let me speak,” Harry says. “I’ve been jerked around a lot. I know I didn’t have an issue with you having a girlfriend the first time because I thought I’d never see you again. And then I did at Niall’s party, and I was so surprised, and I was a bit drunk and I wasn’t thinking, and I let myself go again. I’ve dated around a lot, sure, but I’ve always prided myself in never knowingly being a homewrecker, except maybe once or twice when I was younger. But for some reason – _fuck_ – for some reason I couldn’t help myself with you. I mean you saw what happened with the pictures. I found myself drawn to you. I’ve never felt like that before about a man I didn’t know. I knew I had to meet you. But seeing you with her … I don’t know. I’m not sure if I can do this, no matter how much I want you.” Harry squeezes his eyes shut and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Please Harry, just give me a chance to explain. I’ll make you dinner and we can talk some more, I can tell you my side of things.” Zayn says. Harry can hear the desperation in his voice.

“You want to invite me to dinner with your girlfriend? Are you fucking serious right now?” Harry says, his voice rising in anger. What the fuck?

“No, no god. She’s out of town for the weekend. A work thing. What do you like to eat? I’ll make you whatever you want? I’m no great chef but I can handle myself in the kitchen, just please Harry, give me a chance.” Harry sighs. He knows he should stay firm, but maybe it would be good for him to hear Zayn’s side of things. Then _hopefully_ he can be stronger in his resolution to forget about Zayn and move on with his life.

“Fine, fine. When?”

“Tonight around 8 work for you?” Zayn asks eagerly.

“Okay, see you then,” Harry says, hanging up the phone. He splashes his face with some cold water, hoping it’ll force him to keep a clear head tonight.

“This is an awful idea,” Nick says when Harry reemerges from the bathroom.

“What is?” Harry says, refusing to look at him.

“Seeing him. You know you’ll forgive him back if you go.”

“No I won’t,” Harry replies indignantly. “I’ve got a lot of will power. I’m just going to hear him out.”

“Sure,” Nick scoffs, giving him a knowing look. Harry chooses to ignore him.

It’s already 2, so Harry tries to distract himself by cleaning the kitchen and catching up on his emails. With an hour to go before he has to arrive at Zayn’s, he showers and dresses in his favorite pair of jeans, the tight black ones with the holes in the knees, and a flowy blue short-sleeved shirt. He stops to buy a bottle of wine, then makes his way to Zayn’s, nervous energy coursing through his veins making him jittery and anxious. He knocks on the door and hears a faint “coming!” from behind the door.

 “Hey,” Harry says as Zayn opens the door. Zayn looks beautiful as always, dressed simply in black jeans and a bright red sweater that suits his skin nicely. His hair looks shiny and smooth, framing his face delicately. Harry’s itching to reach out and run his fingers through it, but holds himself back, instead choosing to hand Zayn the bottle of wine.

“Thank you so much for coming. You look wonderful,” Zayn says. Harry sways awkwardly for a moment, unsure of how to greet him. Should he shake his hand? Hug him? Kiss his cheek? He decides to just brush past him into the hallway.

“Um so I made chicken, I hope that’s all right. I didn’t think to ask if you were vegetarian until it was too late,” Zayn says.

“That’s fine thank you,” Harry says politely. He looks around the apartment, taking in the paintings on the wall. He has the distinct feeling Zayn didn’t get a lot of say in the decorations. He sees no pictures of him and Perrie though.

“Don’t you have pictures of the two of you together?” he asks.

“Yeah, but I thought it might be uncomfortable for you so I put them away,” Zayn answers sheepishly as they walk into the living room and settle on the couch, rubbing his hand uncomfortably against the back of his neck. “The food’s almost ready, just gotta wait a bit on the chicken.” Harry just nods.

“Can I get you something to drink? I can open the wine now or I have beer and juice if you’d rather that?” Zayn asks.

“I’m fine for now thanks, I’ll have wine with dinner.” They settle into an uncomfortable silence.

“Look, Harry, I asked you here because I figured I owe you an explanation,” Zayn starts, just as the timer on the oven goes off. “Fuck, I have to go get that. You can go sit at the table while I serve all right?”

Harry sits at the dining table fidgeting awkwardly in his seat as he waits for Zayn to return. This whole thing is so awkward, he’s starting to think whatever they had between them was just lust. Maybe he can get out of this unscathed after all. Zayn serves them a moment later, and they sit in relative silence picking at their food.

 It’s delicious, but Harry can’t bring himself to eat, his mind going into overdrive, thinking about all the spaces he’s filling up that aren’t his to take. Is he sitting in her seat? Is this where they discuss their day and their families and their plans for the future? What the fuck is he doing?

This is the apartment they decided to live in together. This is the table they decided they wanted to sit at. These are the plates they chose to eat from and the wine glasses the chose to drink from. This is the life they chose to share, and Harry is sitting there, disrupting their lives because he couldn’t keep it in his pants long enough to consider the consequences. He feels sick.

“So, as I was saying, I wanted to explain some things about me and about my relationship.” Zayn sighs. “The thing is, Perrie and I have been together for years now, but it’s more out of convenience than anything. We met in Uni and we’ve been on and off ever since. This is the longest we’ve gone without breaking up, going on three years I think. See, I used to be a bit of an arse in the beginning. I’d cheat on her with anybody who was interested basically. And she knew, of course she knew. I thought I was being sneaky and clever, but she’s very observant, and she could tell I was acting strangely.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Harry asks, eyes trained on his plate. He can’t bear to look at Zayn, not while they’re discussing _her_. It hurts too much, he feels too guilty.

“What I’m trying to say is twofold. First, I’ve known Perrie for a long time, for half my life it seems, and I know with all my heart that she doesn’t really love me. She may say she does, she may have even convinced herself that she does, but she doesn’t. She’s mistaken comfort and routine for love. I can see it in her eyes when she looks at me, she doesn’t love me. And I know that’s no real justification for what we’re doing here, but I think that’s always been why I allowed myself to cheat on her before. I’m not going to sit here and lie to you and say I don’t love her, because I do in my own way. But it’s not enough, and it’s certainly not in the way she deserves.

“And second, I’ve been here before, in this same position, trying to decide whether to stay or whether to leave Perrie, but I always chose to stay because nobody ever really made me want to leave enough to make it all worth it. Nobody until you. And I will leave her Harry, I will. I just need to wait for the right time. She’s been so stressed at work lately and I don’t want to add all the stress and drama of a breakup into the mix. I wasn’t lying when I told you I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It’s all I do.” Zayn tentatively reaches over and takes Harry’s hand.

Harry’s resolve breaks then, as he looks into Zayn’s eyes and sees the vulnerability and the hope and the desire. He knows in that moment, when his eyes meet Zayn’s and he feels the warmth of Zayn’s hand over his, that he will follow this man to the ends of the earth if he asked, that he will fight tooth and nail to keep him, and that it will take Harry no time at all to fall in love with him – heck he might be falling already.

He also knows that this is a terrible idea. His heart and his mind wage an internal war; the former telling him to hold on to Zayn and never let him go, and the latter pleading with Harry, even as it feels itself losing, to run as fast as he can away from Zayn and never look back. 

“I just need you to be patient for me Harry. I know we’ve only seen each other a handful of times, but I really feel like this is something worth pursuing. You feel it too don’t you? This attraction, this … this magnetism between us. This can’t be all in my head, right? I just, I need you to tell me that you want this too, that you want me too, that you’re willing to wait for my relationship to run its course so we can be together properly,” Zayn pleads. There is a long pause as Harry pretends to let this sink in, the seconds dragging out as Zayn waits anxiously for some sign of consent. In reality, he wants Zayn to suffer a bit, not knowing whether Harry will say yes, or if this will be the last time they see each other.

“Okay.” He says finally, a small smile on his face. His heart won, as Harry knew it would. Zayn’s face splits into a grin, his nose wrinkling, his eyes like little crescent moons.

“Really? You’ll wait for me?” Zayn asks, his voice full of disbelief. Clearly, he can’t tell how gone Harry is for him already.

“Yeah,” Harry replies, smiling wider. Zayn leans over and gives Harry a prolonged kiss of gratitude.

“We should set some ground rules though,” Harry says when they break apart. He will allow his mind this one victory; he will force himself to take some form of control in a situation where he knows he is ultimately helpless.

“Yes, yes of course babe,” Zayn says immediately.

“Well first off, no sex.”

“What? None at all? Like only kissing?” Zayn squawks.

“Well I don’t mean no orgasms, just no …” Harry waves his hand, searching for the right word. “No penetration.”

Zayn chokes on his wine. “Okay fine, fine. But everything else is on the table right?” Harry just rolls his eyes.

“Second, I don’t want to see Perrie. That means no more coming around here unless Perrie is out of town. You can come to my place or we can go out somewhere every time we see each other.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Zayn says. “Go on.”

“Um, no telling your friends.”

“Wait. Not even Liam? I tell him everything.”

“Nope. Not even Liam. He can think we’re friends, but he’s not to know about this. It’s too hard to keep a secret if too many people know about it.”

“Wait, but do you get to tell your friends?”

“I’ll probably only tell Nick, ‘cos he’ll see you around our place. And maybe Niall because I tell him everything plus he knows we’ve hooked up.”

“How is that fair? I tell Liam everything.” Zayn mutters indignantly.

“Because I’m assuming he’s friends with Perrie. And as far as I know you aren’t all that close with Niall, so I’m guessing he doesn’t know her too well.”

“They’ve met a couple times, they got along great.”

“Zayn, are you gonna meet my terms or not?”

“Fine, fine, whatever. Is there anything else?”

“Not right now, but I’ll probably think of something.”

They fall into silence again. This time though, the air is not awkward and full of tension, but rather light and full of anticipation at what is to come.

“Do you want to know anything else?” Zayn asks quietly, stabbing at a piece of chicken and popping it into his mouth.

“I don’t want to talk about her anymore if that’s what you’re asking. I want you to tell me something about yourself. Despite all of this I don’t know that much about you.” Harry says. It had struck him last night that he knew next to nothing about Zayn.

“Well like what?”

“I don’t know, tell me about your childhood or your job or something. You like singing, why don’t you tell me about that?”

“All right. Well I started singing as a kid. I grew up listening to my dad’s old records and one day I started singing along and I guess I never stopped. I never used to be the best at expressing myself, but I found that writing really helped me with that, and I eventually decided to go to Uni to study English, figured it’d help me. I thought I might wind up becoming a teacher or something, but I guess along the way I realized music was what I really wanted to do.”

“I think it’s always important to do what you love,” Harry says, stroking the back of Zayn’s hand with his thumb. Their food lies forgotten as they talk, swapping stories about their sisters and their time at Uni, getting lost in the lives of the other. They talk well into the night, only stopping when Harry starts yawning and his eyes begin to droop.

“You can sleep here if you’d like,” Zayn asks hopefully. They’d moved to the sofa, Harry’s legs draped over Zayn’s lap as he drags his fingers up and down Harry’s shins. Harry smiles but shakes his head.

“Not sure if that’s such a great idea,” he says. He’s not sure when Perrie is due back, but he doesn’t want to be here if she shows up early.

“She’s not due back ‘til tomorrow evening,” Zayn replies quietly.

“But what if she comes home early?”

“Please,” Zayn snorts. “I’m sure she was thrilled to get away. I doubt she’ll be rushing to come home.”

“I don’t know,” Harry says unconvinced. Despite his willingness to do pretty much anything Zayn asks of him, he’s not sure he’s entirely comfortable with sleeping in their bed, even if they don’t have sex.

“We’ll just sleep. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten your rule, I won’t be trying anything. I just want to be close to you. Also, it’s late and I don’t want you taking the tube now.”

“I came by taxi, I don’t live too far from here.”

“Please Harry. Stay.” Just one bat of Zayn’s eyelashes and Harry’s resolve crumbles like pastry. Harry smiles sleepily at him and leans in for a chaste kiss before standing up. Zayn’s face falls, thinking Harry’s refusing to stay, but he grins wider than ever once Harry takes his hand and leads them down the narrow hallway to Zayn’s room.

“I don’t have a toothbrush,” Harry remarks as they crowd around the sink in the small bathroom.

“There should be a spare in the guest bath under the sink.” Harry makes his way to the other bathroom, pausing to stare at himself in the dirty mirror.

He may not look different, but he feels a change within himself, as though starting this thing with Zayn, whatever it was, had somehow made him into a different person. He’s not sure how he feels about that. He’d never been one to want to change himself for the sake of someone else, but this is uncharted territory for him. He knows that if any of his friends were in his position, he’d tell them to run, that they were being used and the whole thing would end in heartbreak.

Deep down he knows he should be following his own advice, he knows that the guilt already churning in his stomach will only grow worse the more time he spends with Zayn. But Zayn makes him not care about the consequences; Zayn makes him want to be selfish and kick and scream until he gets his way, until he gets Zayn for his very own. It’s this new person he doesn’t like; this greedy, selfish person he can feel himself turning into. He just hopes this feeling ebbs before he grows to resent Zayn. He splashes some cold water on his face, determined to put this out of his mind so he can enjoy his night with Zayn. Something tells him that ignoring his conscience will be a common occurrence these next few weeks.

He returns to Zayn, a smile plastered onto his face, toothbrush in hand. They stand at the sink, giggling every time they bump elbows, their movements restricted by the narrowness of the bathroom as they ready themselves for bed. Harry hesitates when it’s time to climb into bed. He’s stripped down to his boxers, his clothes discarded at the foot of the bed, determined not to sleep on Perrie’s side.

“Um, Zayn?”

“Yeah babe?”

“I don’t know, uh, I mean I just don’t want to, um -”

 “I sleep on the right,” Zayn answers as he shucks off his jeans. Harry smiles gratefully and shuffles over to the right side of the bed and climbs in. He lies on his back for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Should he simply turn his back to Zayn? Or should he try to go in for a cuddle? Normally he’s shamelessly cuddly with the people he sleeps with, but here, where the rules are ill defined and they stand on such uneven ground, he’s not sure how to behave. He yearns for the warm press of Zayn’s body behind his, for Zayn to wind his arm around Harry’s waist and bring him closer. He wants to feel Zayn’s warm breath against his neck as he falls asleep, comfortable in the knowledge that he is wanted.

“Harry?” Zayn whispers. “Look at me.” Harry turns to face Zayn, his hand resting awkwardly next to his pillow. They stare at each other, reveling in the fact that they are well and truly alone together. The planes of Zayn’s face are illuminated by the soft light streaming through the thin curtains. Like this, unguarded and sleepy, he is at his most beautiful. No stress or guilt cloud his features, no wrinkles are etched into his forehead, this is simply Zayn at his most relaxed. His eyes seem impossibly darker and more seductive in the dim lighting, but his skin seems to glow under Harry’s gaze. Harry smiles.

“What are you smiling at?” Zayn whispers.

“Nothing,” Harry replies, smiling wider. “You’re beautiful.”

Zayn reaches forward to brush away a stray strand of hair off Harry’s forehead. His eyes roam Harry’s face before coming to a stop at his lips. He wets his lips and leans forward to trap Harry’s in a lingering kiss.

“I think I’m obsessed with you,” Zayn murmurs. Harry shivers under the intensity of his gaze and reaches forward to graze Zayn’s cheek with his fingertips before grabbing Zayn’s hand and intertwining their fingers. They fall asleep like that, hands clasped tightly together as they lay oblivious to the world outside their room.

-

Harry returns home the next morning in a blissful haze. He had slept excellently the night before, and had woken up to the smell of bacon cooking on the stove. He’d padded out to the kitchen and wrapped himself around Zayn’s bare torso like a koala and buried his face into the crook of Zayn’s neck, breathing in his scent. They’d eaten in silence, feet wrapped around each other as they exchanged smiles over their food.

Sleep seems to have relieved Harry of some of his uneasy feelings about his relationship with Zayn. Sure, he still feels a sharp pang of guilt every time he thinks too hard about what they’re doing, but he no longer feels like a person he can’t recognize.

Nick isn’t in when Harry gets home, so he strips down, right there in the middle of the hallway, and runs himself a bath, willing the hot water to wash away all his troubles.

Nick arrives home an hour later while Harry’s spreading out some photos on the dining table that he needs to sort through from a fashion shoot he did during the week. He’d stayed in the bath until the water went cold and the pads of his fingers had gone prune-y, then hopped out, determined to get at least some work done this weekend.

“Well, well, well. Back from the boyfriend’s are we?” Nick remarks when he spots Harry. Harry scowls.

“Shut up.”

“So, how’d it go? Did he vow to leave his girlfriend for you and profess his undying love to you to get you into bed?”

“Do you have to be such a dick about this?”

“Just looking out for you,” Nick says, holding his palms up defensively.

“No, you’re not, you’re being a dick. Can’t you just be happy for me?” Harry says. He knew this was going to happen. It happens every time he tries to start something with someone.

“I’m just saying -”

“Just saying what?” Harry says, his voice rising with his temper.

“Can’t you see he’s fucking using you?” Nick shouts. “I know you have your moments of general obliviousness, but you can’t really be that stupid to think he’s actually into you.”

“Fuck you,” Harry spits. Despite himself, Harry can feel tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. He won’t cry, he _won’t_.

“Clearly his girlfriend’s strap on wasn’t enough for him anymore and he needed a taste of the real thing. Trust me, the minute he gets bored of you he’ll ditch you and I’ll be left to pick up the pieces. For fuck’s sake Harry, tell me you aren’t this fucking naïve!”

“You don’t know him, you don’t know what we have.”

“Oh please, you think this hasn’t happened a thousand times before? God this is such a cliché, how can you not see that?”

“Stop it, you don’t understand the situation.”

“You’re acting like a fucking child Harry! You know that if you were on the other side of this situation looking in you’d be saying the exact same thing I am. This man, whatever his name is, he’s just using you.”

“You’re just jealous,” Harry mumbles mutinously.

“Excuse me? Wow. Well when all this falls apart, don’t come crying to me.” With that, Nick turns on his heel and stalks off to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Harry slumps forward and buries his face in his arms. He wills himself not to cry, but the more he thinks about what Nick said, the harder the tears are to control, until finally they spill hot and fast down his face.

The thing is, he knows Nick is right. If he were seeing the situation objectively he’d think he was being a fool for believing Zayn. But he can’t help himself. Zayn is so fucking irresistible, and it terrifies Harry to think how much he likes him already.

-

A few days later, Harry’s about to head out for lunch when he gets a call from Zayn. He took a day off work, deciding he could get stuff done from home.

“Babe, where are you?” Zayn asks. Harry smiles. Zayn’s voice always makes him smile.

“Was just about to grab some lunch, why?”

“You want to have a picnic? It’s such lovely weather out and I thought you might like a break from work.”

“All right, where?” Harry’s heart flutters in his chest.

“Thought we might head down to Richmond Park. The walks are beautiful, maybe we could feed the deer or something, I don’t know. Just wanted to spend some time with you.”

They arrange to meet up at the park in an hour. Zayn insisted on being in charge of food, and had only asked Harry to bring some old blankets for them to sit on as they eat.

-

It’s warm and sunny when Harry arrives, a backpack slung over his shoulder carrying two ratty blankets that neither he nor Nick use anymore. He puts a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun as he searches for Zayn. They’d agreed to meet up at the Pen Ponds café at half one, but he can’t see him anywhere. Suddenly he feels a tap on his shoulder. Harry whirls around to see Zayn slightly out of breath but grinning broadly.

“Hey love, sorry I’m late. Have you been here long?” Zayn says, leaning forward to kiss Harry. Love? “I stopped on the way to get you these.” He pulls a bouquet of pale pink roses out from behind his back and hands them to Harry. He blushes and ducks his head to inhale their sweet scent. He looks up at Zayn then, grinning wide.

“Thank you, they’re lovely,” Harry responds shyly, before leaning across to give Zayn a peck on the cheek. “So why are we all the way out here?”

“Well, I heard that this café has the best bacon rolls. Also, I don’t know, thought we could sit by the pond while we ate or something. It’s a bit of a walk from here, but I thought you might enjoy it. We haven’t spent a lot of time alone together that didn’t involve getting off.”

They buy their bacon rolls from the little kiosk and head down the path towards the lake, chatting along the way. Zayn slips his hand into Harry’s once they’ve finished their rolls, filling Harry with warmth. The walk feels far too short after that, and Harry is reluctant to let go of his hand once they’ve chosen a spot.

They settle onto the blankets, Zayn pulling out a bottle of white wine, two packets of crisps, some strawberries, two plastic cups and some serviettes as Harry leans back on his elbows to take in the view.

They talk as they eat, sharing anecdotes about their childhood which are interspersed with sweet kisses that taste of strawberries and wine. Not once does Zayn bring up Perrie. It’s the happiest Harry’s been in years.

Birds are chirping and the air is clean and fresh. It’s a perfect summer’s day.

-

They settle into a routine very quickly. Zayn pops by Harry’s work a few times a week to check in on him and have lunch together. Then Zayn dicks around Harry’s office, sometimes doodling and sometimes just being a pest, until it’s time for Zayn to start his shift at the bar. Harry’s colleagues think Zayn’s his boyfriend, and Harry doesn’t bother to correct them. Although they’d never properly defined what they were to each other, the more time they spent together the more accurately the title boyfriend seemed to describe them.

Harry flat out refuses to discuss Perrie, to the point where he ignores Zayn if she ever comes up in a story he’s telling until he changes the subject entirely. He’s gotten quite good at tamping down his guilt, so good in fact, that he’s almost forgotten about it. He’s a big fan of ignoring the unpleasant things in life, and lately he’s been keeping Perrie in the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ corner of his brain.

That is until he runs into her while he’s at the store. He’s humming to himself as he peruses the vegetable aisle, when he hears a high pitched “Harry?” behind him. It takes him a moment to place the voice. He combs through the faces of the women he knows, trying to match the voice to a face when it hits him. Fuck. He turns around slowly, desperately trying to think of a way to get out of a conversation with her, but comes up blank.

“Hey, Perrie. How are you?” Harry says. His stomach churns.

“I’m great, how ‘bout you?” She asks brightly. God she’s so nice. He hates her.

“Doing okay. Can’t complain.” Harry says. He can’t seem to meet her eyes. He’s filled with a sudden rush of self-loathing.

“That’s nice. Zayn showed me the pictures you sent him of the wedding. Did you only send him the ones he was in?” Right. The wedding pictures. The ones that Harry took that were mostly of Zayn. He’d forgotten about that.

“Uh yeah, pretty much just the ones with Zayn in.”

“That was nice. So where are you headed?”

“Um, just home to make myself some dinner.”

“Why don’t you come over? Zayn and I haven’t had anybody over in ages, it’d be nice to have a real reason to clean the place up.” Perrie chuckles.

“Oh, um, I don’t know, I have some work I need to finish, I’ll have to check.”

“Great! You have Zayn’s number, right? You can text him and let him know if you can come,” Perrie smiles wide enough to show her teeth. She’s so beautiful. Not for the first time, Harry wonders what went wrong to make Zayn cheat on her so readily. God, he needs to find a new place to shop.

He returns home, all the guilt he had previously been able to ignore is back with a vengeance. He faceplants on the sofa and groans loudly into a pillow. What has he gotten himself into?

“What’s wrong?” Nick asks cautiously.

Things with Nick haven’t exactly been good lately. Even though Harry had apologized, he could see the disapproval in Nick’s eyes every time he got a text from Zayn or brought him up in a conversation. Nick never said anything explicitly, but the way he raised his eyebrows every time Harry blushed over a text or left the room to take a call said it all.

“Promise to not be condescending?” Harry asks, raising his head just enough so he can look at Nick.

“Fine.”

“I ran into Perrie at the shop and she invited me for dinner.” He mumbles, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“Perrie?”

“Zayn’s girlfriend.”

“What?” Squawks Nick, his eyebrows raised and mouth agape in shock.

“I know.” Harry groans. “I didn’t know what to say, so I said I’d check my schedule. Didn’t want to be rude.”

“Well obviously you can’t go,” Nick says, sitting gingerly on the arm of the sofa.

“Obviously. Despite what you say I’m not a self-destructive moron.” He pauses. “Okay I’m not a moron.”

“What are you going to say?”

“Well she told me to text Zayn and let him know my answer -”

“She knows you and Zayn talk?” Nick asks, his voice rising in surprise.

“Well no. The first time I ran into them together I said I would send Zayn the pictures and the fucking idiot showed them to her.” Nick had been there when Harry had gotten the pictures back from the printers, and had laughed his arse off when he noticed all the pictures of Zayn. He’s always found great amusement in Harry’s mistakes.

“Christ. What did she say?”

“She asked if I had only sent him pictures he was in.”

“Well isn’t she trusting,” Nick says dryly. He laughs a short, humorless laugh.

“Nick,” Harry whines. “What am I doing?”

“Who knows.” Harry reaches up to slap him half-heartedly on the arm.

“I’m sure it’ll all turn out fine,” Nick amends, patting Harry awkwardly on the back. “Now why don’t you text Zayn and tell him you can’t make it.”

 _She says she’s disappointed but she wants u over soon._ Harry receives in response. _Btw the lads & I r going out Friday, do u want 2 come? Liam and louis got back from their honeymoon._

 ** _Who else will b there?_** Harry sends back.

_Perries not going if that’s what ur asking._

**_Can Nick come?_ **

_Sure._

**_Ok. Ill b there._ **

“Nick? How do you feel about going out with me and Zayn and some of his friends on Friday?” Harry asks hopefully.

“Oh god, what are you trying to get me into?” Nick asks warily.

“Nothing, I swear! Zayn invited me and I asked if I could bring you too. I don’t know any of them that well apart from Zayn and Niall if he’s going. Please Nick, please?” Harry wheedles. He does his best puppy dog face, complete with wide eyes and pouty lips that he knows Nick can’t resist.

“Fuck you Styles.” Harry takes that as a yes.

-

Harry’s been standing in front of his closet for an hour now, trying to decide what to wear. He’s meeting up with Zayn and his friends tonight and he wants to look good, but not like he tried too hard to look good. He’s assuming none of them know about their affair, so he can’t be too obvious about wanting to impress Zayn. He’s gotten as far as putting on jeans, but he can’t decide which shirt to wear. He kind of wants to go for his sheer black shirt, but he feels it might be a bit much for a night out with the lads.

“Nick!” Harry yells.

“What?” Nick responds from somewhere in the living room.

“I need you.”

“Well isn’t that nice.”

“Niiick,” Harry whines. “I can’t decide what to wear.”

“Oh my god,” Nick sighs exasperatedly walking into Harry’s room. “Just pick a shirt and go. It’s not bloody rocket science.”

“But I want to look nice.”

“I get you want to look pretty for your boyfriend but it isn’t a fucking fashion show.” He reaches into his closet and pulls out a white t shirt with hand outlines printed on it. “Here, perfect.”

“I don’t know -”

“If you don’t put that fucking shirt on in the next ten seconds I swear I won’t go and you’ll have to deal with Zayn’s friends all alone.” Nick threatens.

“Fine, fine, jesus.”

-

They arrive no less than an hour later after an argument about Harry’s shoes.

“Harry!” Niall greets, clapping him on the back as he and Nick slide into their booth. The first thing he notices is that Zayn isn’t there.

“Oh look, it’s the stalker,” mutters Louis. Liam elbows him in the ribs.

“Be nice,” he hisses. “It’s lovely to see you Harry.”

“Hi. Sorry again about the pictures, I don’t really know what happened.” Harry says, blushing. “This is Nick my roommate.” He says.

“It’s fine, really, Louis’ just being a brat.” Liam says warmly. He introduces them to the others around the table. Harry recognizes them vaguely from the wedding as being Andy, Liam’s childhood friend, and then Stan and Oli, two friends of Louis’.

“Zayn says he’s on his way.” Niall chuckles, shaking his head fondly. “Late as usual.”

“So c’mon, tell us about the honeymoon,” says Andy, jabbing Liam in the ribs. Harry tunes them out as he waits impatiently for Zayn, his knee bouncing up and down in anticipation. How would Zayn treat him? Would he pretend they didn’t know each other again? Does Niall know that they’ve been seeing each other since his party? Will he say anything? He feels a warm hand pressing firmly on his knee to get him to stop moving.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Nick whispers. “Stop it, you’re being annoying.” Harry scowls, and is about to complain when he spots Zayn ... grasping Perrie by the hand. _Oh god, this can’t be happening_. Harry thinks. _No, please no. Not here, not now._ He feels Nick’s grip on his knee tighten as he spots Perrie.

“Is that -”

“Yup,” Harry mutters. He stares at Zayn, struggling to keep his expression neutral. He’s alternating between feelings of crushing, overbearing guilt and blinding rage. How fucking dare he invite Harry out and then bring his girlfriend. What is he trying to do here? Harry already knows they’re still together, he doesn’t need Zayn to rub it in his face.

“Hey lads. The missus here insisted on coming because she felt bad she missed the wedding. She wanted to hear all about the honey moon.” Zayn finally meets Harry’s eyes, imploring him to understand. Harry doesn’t lighten his gaze, letting Zayn know just how angry he is. Perrie makes her way around the table, kissing everyone on the cheek as though they were lifelong friends.

“I can’t deal with this,” Harry whispers in Nick’s ear. “Shall we order some drinks?” Harry says louder to the group. He’s met with a round of enthusiastic cheers. If he has to deal with seeing Zayn with Perrie, the least he can do is get black out drunk.

It only takes him about an hour to get tipsy and another thirty minutes until he’s drunk enough to be grinding up on some buff blonde a few meters from where everyone’s sitting. He makes sure Zayn can see his every move, determined to make him jealous, determined to make him feel at least a fraction of what Harry feels when he looks at him with Perrie. He sees Zayn clenching his jaw as he watches them, his eyes never leaving Harry’s face even as he’s whispering in Perrie’s ear, his hand high on her thigh. Good.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Nick chatting to Niall, studiously ignoring Harry and his antics. He feels bad for dragging Nick out here only to abandon him, but, really, what choice did he have?

He moves his arse back against the man, trying to get a reaction out of him. Maybe he can get a sloppy blowjob in the toilets out of this. That’d really make Zayn sorry. The man snakes his hand around Harry’s waist, letting his hand rest low on Harry’s stomach. He’s breathing heavily into Harry’s ear as they dance.

“You want to take this back to my place?” The man whispers in Harry’s ear, his voice husky with desire. Harry turns to face him, giving him his most seductive smile. He doesn’t particularly want to go with him, he isn’t even sure if he remembers his name, but if it pisses Zayn off, well, who is he to pass up an opportunity like this? Harry lets the man lead him outside when suddenly, he feels a hand on his shoulder pulling him away from ... Brad? Yeah, that’s his name. Harry wants to laugh, of course his name is fucking _Brad_.

“Harry,” Zayn says, glaring at Brad. Harry yanks himself away, whirling around to face Zayn. Who the _fuck_ does he think he is?

“What?” He growls. He’s drunk, but not so drunk that he can’t speak properly.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Zayn says, his chest heaving. He looks angry.

“Why the fuck do you care?”

“You’re drunk -”

“That’s none of your concern. Now why don’t you run along back to your _girlfriend_ and leave me the fuck alone,” Harry spits.

“Harry please,”

“No, fuck you. How dare you invite me and then bring her here and have the audacity to be jealous.”

“Hey, am I interrupting something here?” Brad interjects.

“Shut up Brad,” Harry says.

“My name’s Jeremy.”

“Shut up Jeremy.”

“Wow, fuck you guys,” Jeremy says, backing away.

“Great, now look what you did,” Harry snarls.

“Harry, please calm down -”

“Calm down? You want me to calm down? God you’re such an arse Zayn! I knew this was a bad idea, I knew you would break my fucking heart. I should’ve listened to Nick.” Harry says, shaking his head. God why was he so _stupid_? He feels tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“What did Nick say?”

“That you were just using me. That you weren’t getting it good enough from your girlfriend and you had to look somewhere else to get off. That the minute you got bored of me you’d dump me like I was nothing. I should’ve fucking believed him.” He feels dizzy.

“How can you say that? You know how much I care about you -”

“Care about me?” Harry scoffs. “Oh please, this isn’t how you treat someone you care about. You could’ve at least given me a heads up about bringing her. I could’ve made some stupid excuse and left instead of having to deal with seeing you two all night. How do you think this makes me feel, huh? Do you think I enjoy being the other woman? Do you think all this sneaking around is exciting for me? Is this what gets you off? Having your cozy little life with your girlfriend while knowing you have a nice little piece on the side when you want a little something extra?”

“Hey, is everything all right out here?” Perrie asks, stepping out of the bar. Her brow is furrowed in concern. She doesn’t seem to have heard them thank fuck.

“Yeah, everything’s fine babe. Head back inside. Harry’s drunk that’s all. I was just trying to get him a cab, make sure he gets home all right.” Zayn says tiredly. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to compose himself.

“Okay, well why don’t you go with him? Make sure he gets home all right.” She says before turning around and rejoining the party. God she’s so oblivious. Harry kicks at the floor with the toe of his boot.

“I can get home on my own,” he mutters, his anger suddenly dissipating. He’s exhausted.

“Harry please, I’ll take you.”

The cab ride to Harry’s place is awkward. Harry refuses to so much as look at Zayn, getting a surge of satisfaction every time Zayn looks over at him, imploring Harry to acknowledge him.

The alcohol really starts hitting Harry as they enter the apartment, making Harry stumble over to the toiler to relieve the contents of his stomach.

“It’s all right babe,” Zayn soothes, stroking his hand up and down Harry’s back.

“I hate you, I really fucking hate you,” Harry mumbles, his burning face resting against the cool plastic of the toilet seat.

“I know babe, I know. Let it all out.” Zayn tucks him in to bed a little while later after forcing him to down a glass of water.

“Zayn,” Harry says, reaching his hand out to grab Zayn’s wrist. “Don’t leave.”

“I have to, love, I’m sorry.” He leans forward to kiss Harry’s forehead.

“I love you, you know,” Harry whispers, his eyes closing. “Why am I not enough for you? Why don’t you love me?”

“I do, Harry.”

“Why don’t you love me enough to leave her?” If Zayn responds Harry doesn’t hear as he drifts off into a fitful sleep.


	4. Zayn

Zayn arrives home at some ridiculous time in the morning, Harry’s words replaying over and over in his mind like a broken record. I love you, I love you, I love you. He knows Harry meant it, he could hear the pain in Harry’s voice when they fought, as though it physically hurt him to see Zayn with someone else. He doesn’t know why but he’s angry. Angry at Harry for putting him in this position, angry at Perrie for being with him, but most of all, he’s angry at himself for not being able to leave Perrie, no matter how much he may want to.   
He hears a quiet “Zayn?” coming from his bedroom. He sighs and trudges over, suddenly dreading seeing her.   
“Hey babe, you get home all right?” he asks wearily, leaning against the door frame.   
“Yeah, I got home fine. Was Harry okay? He seemed pretty drunk.”  
“Uh, yeah, he’s okay. He puked, and I forced him to drink some water before he passed out.” Zayn says, rubbing his beard.  
“Come to bed.”  
“I’ll be there in a bit babe. Not quite tired enough yet,” he says, walking over to give Perrie a chaste kiss on the forehead. He goes back out to the living room and opens up his notebook, Harry’s words igniting a spark of inspiration in him. He scrawls “It’s You” at the top of a fresh page and begins to write.  
-  
He’s wakes up the next morning with a crick in his neck and his phone blaring in his ear. He must’ve fallen asleep on the sofa.  
“Hullo?” He mumbles.  
“Zayn?” It’s Harry. Oh god. What does he remember from last night?  
“Harry? Um, hi,” He gets up and peers into the bedroom to find Perrie gone. She must have gone out with Jesy again. “How are you feeling?”  
“What happened last night?” Harry asks cautiously. “I woke up all tucked in and with a horrendous headache. Did you bring me back?”  
“Yeah, had to make sure you wouldn’t drown in your own vom now didn’t I.” Zayn lets out a sigh of relief. He’s guessing Harry forgot about the fight, about telling Zayn he loved him.  
“I’m feeling a bit shit right now, but I was wondering if you wanted to come over later,” Harry asks shyly. “If you don’t already have plans that is.” He adds as an afterthought.  
“No, I’m free. Text me your address and I’ll be over,” he says.   
-  
As hard as Harry tries, Nick will not stop glaring at Zayn. What the fuck did Harry tell him? Zayn wonders as he sits awkwardly at their kitchen table, trying his hardest not to meet Nick’s eyes.  
“So Nick, what is it you do for a living?” Zayn asks, trying to keep his tone light.  
“I work in radio.” Nick responds curtly.   
“Oh, that’s nice.”  
“Yep.” Zayn looks at Harry for help, but he just shrugs, clearly as confused about Nick’s behavior as he is.  
“You know what, why don’t we go to my room?” Harry says, grabbing Zayn by the hand and leading him down the hallway to his room.  
“What was that all about?” Zayn asks once the door is shut safely behind them.   
“No idea,” Harry says. “I mean I was a bit dramatic when we first started seeing each other, but he knows everything’s fine with us now. He’s probably just being protective.”  
Zayn frowns. What could Harry have said about him to make Nick this angry?  
“Anyway, enough talk about Nick,” Harry says, rubbing his hands up and down Zayn’s chest. “We never have time alone and I want to take advantage.”  
Zayn grins and leans in to kiss Harry, sliding his hands through his soft hair. Harry moans into the kiss and draws him closer by the waist so they’re standing toe to toe in the middle of the room. As the kiss gets more heated he walks Harry backwards onto the bed and straddles his lap. Harry moans this deep guttural sound that has Zayn thinking all sorts of dirty thoughts, and starts grinding his hips upwards as he starts to harden in his jeans.   
Zayn humors him for a moment as he unbuttons Harry’s shirt before climbing off his lap so he can suck a trail of marks down his chest to the bottom of Harry’s navel. He grins wickedly up at Harry as he pops the button on his jeans before pulling out his hard cock and suckling lightly on the tip. Despite having spent so much time together these past few months, they haven’t gotten each other off much since Niall’s party, and Zayn’s been dying to get his mouth around him.   
He maneuvers himself into a more comfortable position, settling at the foot of the bed with one of Harry’s thighs draped over his shoulder as he sucks him off, Harry’s back arching off the bed with pleasure. As his jaw tires, he alternates between sucking and using his spit-slick hand to bring Harry off, finally cupping his balls as he comes. Zayn’s surprised at how quick it was. Despite how much he loathes the thought of it, he’d figured Harry has been getting off with other people. It’s not exactly like Zayn could ask Harry to be exclusive considering his own position. He asks Harry as much.  
“Uh, no.” He responds sheepishly. “I haven’t been getting off with anybody since you.”  
“Why not? It’s not like I’ve been monogamous this whole time.” His voice is very raspy, like he’s been smoking or, well, sucking cock. Fuck, he hopes Perrie won’t notice when he gets home. Maybe he’ll say he’s coming down with a cold or something.  
“I haven’t wanted to I guess. I tried a couple of times, but I couldn’t get around the fact that they weren’t you.” Harry blushes. Once Harry’s recovered, he returns the favor, sucking Zayn until he’s a sweaty, quivering mess on Harry’s sheets.   
“So, do you really not remember anything from last night?” Zayn asks as they lie spent on Harry’s bed. He can’t help but hope that Harry will tell him he loves him again.  
“Nope,” Harry says, popping the ‘p’. “Why? Did I say something? Nick always says I say the weirdest things when I’m drunk.”  
“Uh, no, no reason. I was just wondering. You didn’t seem all that drunk is all. At least not the whole time.” Zayn says. He feels his heart sink despite himself. He can’t help but hate himself for wishing Harry would say it. Is it so wrong to want to be loved?  
“I mean I remember arriving at the bar with Nick, but after we ordered the drinks everything’s blank.” Harry shrugs. Zayn turns to his side to look at Harry.  
“You know I really care about you right. Like a lot.” He says, playing with Harry’s fingers.  
“Yeah?” Harry asks smiling widely. God he’s cute all spread out and tired like this, Zayn thinks. “I really care about you too. Like a lot. A lot a lot.”  
“I don’t know if you think this is too soon, but I wanted to give you this,” Zayn says as the idea pops into his head. He pulls the silver rose ring off his finger and presses it into Harry’s palm. Harry’s words last night had really hit him hard, and he wanted to do something to show Harry how serious he was about him, even if staying with Perrie didn’t show it.   
“Zayn, I don’t know what to say,” Harry says in awe. He looks up at Zayn, his eyes scrunched up in happiness. It’s then that Zayn realizes he doesn’t need to hear Harry say those words, it’s written plain as day on his face. He bites his lip as he hesitates over what to say next. He knows he loves Harry, he wouldn’t have given him his ring if he didn’t, but feeling it and saying it are very different things. Then again anything is worthwhile if it makes Harry happy.  
“I love you Harry.” He says earnestly. He feels as though his heart is pounding in his throat as he looks at Harry, taking in his sweaty forehead and his dimples and his bright green eyes.  
“I – I love you too Zayn,” Harry says, his eyes shining with happiness. Zayn’s heart soars as he wraps Harry in his arms, determined to never make Harry doubt him or his love again.   
-  
When Zayn gets home that evening he knows what he has to do. The events of this evening with Harry made him realize it’s time to end things with Perrie, for good this time. It isn’t fair to any of them, Zayn included, to keep up this charade any longer. He takes a deep breath as he enters the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he watches Perrie make herself a cup of tea. He takes a moment to work up the courage to speak.  
“Perrie, we need to talk.” He says. Fuck he feels nervous.  
“What’s up babe, is everything all right?” She asks, her forehead wrinkled with concern. Oh god, she has no fucking clue.  
“I think it’s time to end things between us,” he says in a rush, wringing his hands together anxiously.  
“What?” Perrie squawks. “I don’t understand, I thought things were going well.”  
“I just can’t -”  
“Oh my god,” she interrupts. “You’ve been cheating on me again haven’t you?”  
“What? I -”  
“I can’t fucking believe you Zayn,” she shrieks. “After all I’ve done for you, after all we’ve been through and this is how you end things?”  
“Perrie -”  
“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” Perrie shouts. “Do you really think I didn’t notice when you came home smelling of sex after that damned wedding? God I’m so fucking stupid! I should’ve seen the signs, they were all there. You’ve been all secretive lately and you keep leaving the room to take phone calls. And I saw the lyrics to that song you wrote the other night when you were sleeping on the couch. I thought it was about me but it can’t be.”  
“Perrie, please -”  
“Oh don’t ‘Perrie please’ me. I know exactly what our friends were saying about me behind my back after you last little indiscretion. God! Is it really so hard for you to keep it in your pants? I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again.”  
“I’m not, Perrie I promise -” He doesn’t want to lie, but he really doesn’t want to admit to his affair with Harry. He figures all it will do is hurt her more.  
“Well, who is it Zayn?” She demands, hands on her hips. “The least you can do is tell me who you’re cheating on me with. Do I know her?”  
“Perrie -”  
“Do. I. Know. Her?” she growls.   
Zayn sighs in resignation. Fuck. “Kind of?”  
“What do you mean kind of? Have I met her or not?”  
“Yes.”  
“Who is it then?”  
“Harry.”  
“What?” She says shocked. “You mean Harry as in the photographer from Liam’s wedding?”  
“Yes.”  
“Harry the man who I invited here for dinner? The one who we ran into at the store and you pretended you hardly knew him, that Harry?”  
“Yes.”  
“Oh my god. That explains why you were so off last night at the bar. You were jealous that he was grinding up on that guy. I can’t fucking believe this.”  
“I’m so sorry -”  
“Sorry my arse. If you were truly sorry you would’ve left it at a one night stand, but no. I’m guessing you’re still seeing him.”  
“Please -”  
“Please what Zayn? What could you possibly have to say for yourself? What possible explanation do you have for sneaking around with this other man.” Zayn stares at the ground, his back hunched painfully as he tries to curl into himself, wishing he could slip between the cracks in the kitchen tiles and disappear. He hates confrontation more than anything.  
“He’s so … I don’t know Perrie.” He sighs rubbing his face over his hands. “I love him,” he says finally.  
“You love him,” Perrie says flatly before bursting into tears. “Oh god. Did you ever love me Zayn?”  
“Of course I did Pez. It’s just -”  
“Not enough.” Zayn shakes his head minutely. He wants to go over and try to comfort her, but he can’t seem to make himself move. After a sudden, sharp intake of breath she wipes her eyes and glares at Zayn.  
“I’ll be going back home for a few days. Don’t be here when I get back.”  
Zayn slumps to the floor, his knees finally giving out. He really left Perrie after all these years, after all the bullshit she put up with for him. Although his conscience feels lighter, his heart feels like it’s been stomped on. He knows he still loves Perrie, even if it isn’t nearly enough to stay with her, even if he’s not in love with her. Even if it’s not nearly as much as he loves Harry.  
It doesn’t occur to him until Perrie’s long gone, that he won’t have a place to stay when she gets back. He sends a desperate plea to Niall to let him crash on his couch for a few weeks while he sorts himself out. Niall being Niall just sends back a smiley face emoji, which Zayn takes to mean yes, followed by a string of sad face emojis, probably guessing that they broke up.   
Zayn retreats to his bedroom to pack up his stuff, deciding to leave some books and old t-shirts he knows Perrie likes to wear. He makes a mental note to call his mum later. She’ll be devastated. She loves Perrie, although she’ll probably be angrier at Zayn than anything, especially if she finds out why they broke up. Zayn hopes it won’t come to that.   
When he arrives at Niall’s several hours later, laden down with bags full of clothes and shoes, Niall takes one look at his face and wraps him in a big hug. Zayn can feel some of his gloominess seep away. Niall gives damn good hugs. He has the courtesy to wait until Zayn is ensconced in blankets and sipping on some hot tea before he asks.  
“So, you gonna tell me what happened?”  
Zayn sighs and blows on his hot tea. “I broke up with her.”  
“Zayn! That woman was the best thing to ever happen to you. She was the one who got you to get your shit in order, or did you forget your uni days?”  
“Shit, I know. It’s just … I realized I love Harry, and I couldn’t keep doing this to either of them.”  
“God you’re such a mess. They both deserve so much better.”  
“I feel guilty enough as it is, Niall. No need to pile on to it.” Zayn mumbles, scratching at the back of his neck. He had been counting on Niall being on his side. That’s why Zayn had called him and not one of his other friends from home. He wished he could call Liam, but first he’d have to explain the whole situation with Harry and he really didn’t want to get into it.  
“Guilty my arse. If you really felt so bad about it the first time it wouldn’t have happened again.” Zayn scowls.   
“Okay, okay. Enough with the guilt tripping. I did love her you know. I tried so hard not to slip up, tried to be good enough for her. Guess I just gave up didn’t I. Realized I wasn’t actually happy,” Zayn says setting his mug down on the coffee table and letting his head rest against the back of the sofa.   
“Have you told Harry?” Niall asks.  
“Not yet.”   
“Well you should get on that. Harry’s been talking my ear off about you. It’s getting annoying. There’s only so much I can hear about your hair or your eyes or your damn cheekbones before I go crazy,” Niall huffs.   
Zayn calls in sick to work, citing personal issues, and stays in with Niall all night playing FIFA. He feels like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He’s sad, sure, but ultimately, he feels more at ease than he has in a long time.   
He texts Harry the following morning. Perrie and I are over, it reads. Oh. He gets in response. Then. Do you want to come over? Zayn grins. I’m working tonight, but I could meet you after. My shift ends at 1. He sends back. See you tonight xx  
Zayn takes extra care when he dresses for work that evening. He actually bothers to style his hair off his face and opts for a slightly nicer black button down that he usually uses for work. He even pulls out his jeans that make it seem like he actually has an arse. Niall takes one look at him and whistles lowly.  
“I take it you’re seeing Harry tonight,” he says grinning.  
“Yeah, I’m headed over there after work.”  
“All right. Well, be good and don’t forget to use protection!” Zayn smacks him in the chest.  
“Fuck off,” Zayn mutters.   
-  
The thought of getting to see Harry later is the only thing that gets Zayn through a particularly horrendous shift at the bar. He doesn’t know if it’s the aftermath of the breakup, or the excitement of finally getting to be with Harry, but he managed to yell at 5 different customers for taking too long to order and then dropped a really expensive bottle of vodka that he’ll have to pay for out of pocket.   
It’s with a sigh of relief that he leaves the bar that night, worse for wear but ultimately excited to start this new chapter of his life. He hails a cab as soon as he steps foot outside, eager to go see Harry.   
He can’t help but get a bit nervous on the ride over though. His entire relationship with Harry had been built around secrecy, but now that he and Perrie were over, he was able to take this to the next level. He already knew he was in love with Harry, but he worried what his friends would say about the way they got together, seeing as there was a big overlap between the end of his relationship with Perrie and the start of his affair with Harry.  
It takes all his will power not to grab a cigarette out of the emergency pack he keeps in his jacket as he steps out of the cab, just to take the edge off.   
He brushes off his jeans as he enters the building, suddenly wishing he had thought to buy Harry some flowers or a bottle of mediocre wine before he got here; he feels weird showing up empty handed.  
He bites at his thumb nail nervously as he waits for someone to open the door.  
“Zayn!” Harry says excitedly, beckoning him inside. He’s dressed in black sweatpants and a soft-looking white t-shirt, his hair disheveled and big black glasses framing his eyes. He looks adorable.  
“Hiya babe,” he says tiredly, wrapping Harry into a big hug.  
“How was work?” Harry asks, nestling his face into the crook of Zayn’s neck, his words coming out slightly muffled.  
“Awful. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of seeing you.” He feels Harry smile against his skin.  
“God you’re such a sap,” Harry says fondly, extricating himself from Zayn’s embrace to grasp his hand and lead him into the living room. “Are you hungry? I could make you something.”  
“No, I’m all right. I just want to cuddle if that’s all right. It’s been a rough couple of days.”  
Zayn settles himself against the arm of the sofa, opening his arms to allow Harry to fall into them. His back is pressed against Zayn’s chest, his warmth seeping into Zayn’s skin. Zayn wraps his arms around Harry, resting his hands against his abdomen as he rests his chin on Harry’s shoulder. He breathes in Harry’s scent, something heady and warm about it that makes Zayn want to latch onto him and never let go.   
He peppers light kisses along Harry’s neck making him giggle and squirm against him.   
“How’d she take it?” Harry asks quietly, tracing his index finger along the lotus tattoo on Zayn’s hand.  
“About as well as you’d expect. She cried and demanded I tell her who I was sleeping with.”  
“You told her about us?”  
“Well I denied having an affair at first, but she insisted I tell her. I just gave in in the end. I didn’t want to lie to her anymore, you know? I figured I owed her the truth at the very least.” Harry hums.  
“Is she still at your place?” His fingertips move to the tattoos on his forearms, sending goosebumps along Zayn’s skin.  
“No, she left to go stay with her family.”  
“Wait, where are you staying now then?”  
“I’m crashing at Niall’s.” Harry hesitates for a second, his fingers halting their exploration of Zayn’s arms.  
“I know it’s soon, but you could stay here if you’d like,” Harry suggests, his voice trailing off as he begins to trace the lines on Zayn’s palm.  
“I’m not sure Nick would be too thrilled by that.”  
“Well you won’t be sleeping with him, will you? Anyhow, it’s my apartment too and I’m allowed to have anyone over that I like.”  
“I mean I’d love to stay with you babe, but isn’t it a tad soon?”   
“Well it’s not like you have to move in permanently, you could just stay here while you find a new place. It’s got to be better than sleeping on Niall’s couch at any rate.”  
Zayn buries his face in Harry’s hair and smiles. “Okay,” he whispers before moving to give Harry a soft kiss on the cheek.  
That night he sleeps more peacefully than he has in a long time, wrapped in the arms of the man he loves.


	5. Zayn & Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I'm sorry

ZAYN:

Zayn wishes he could say that everything was perfect after he started staying at Nick and Harry’s, and in the beginning it was, but it didn’t take long for Nick to start getting annoyed at how loved up Zayn and Harry were acting.

It starts off with Nick huffing every time they would kiss in the kitchen while preparing dinner or would snuggle while watching a movie in the living room, which Zayn put down to Nick wanting a boyfriend of his own. It isn’t until Nick actually says something that Zayn realized he had an issue with their relationship.

“Be careful of him,” Nick warns as he lounges against his sofa, clad only in a pair of ratty pajama bottoms.  “He may be fun at first, and he might tell you he loves you or whatever, but once he gets bored of you, and he _will_ get bored, it will break you.”

Zayn stares at him for a beat, before saying: “How can you be so sure that’ll happen this time?”

Nick merely shrugs in return. “I’ve seen it happen a thousand times before. He lures them in with his dimples and his cheeky smile and his huge cock, but the minute you start getting too comfortable he runs as fast as he can in the opposite direction. It doesn’t matter how in love you think you are with your girlfriend or how insignificant you think Harry is in your life, or, in your case, how in love you think you are with each other, because the minute he sinks his claws into you he will ruin you.”

“I don’t believe you, Harry isn’t like that. Not with me.”

Nick scoffs. “Please, if I had a pound for every desperate phone call, every bouquet of flowers left at our doorstep and every frantic voicemail from one of Harry’s spurned ex-lovers, I’d be richer than the bloody Pope.”

Zayn stares at Nick unable to respond. It can’t be true it just can’t. He left everything for Harry, his girlfriend, his home, their mutual friends - most of whom had sided with Perrie after the breakup. But Harry knew this, surely he wouldn’t dare leave Zayn after this, after all Zayn had sacrificed for him. He thought everything was going great. Harry had invited him to stay here with him as soon as he ended things with Perrie, it wasn’t like Zayn was trying to push Harry to be more serious than they were ready for.

When he’s able to speak again he says “Harry wouldn’t do that to me, we have something special, we’re in love. He wouldn’t throw it all away for nothing.” Nick says nothing in return, just sips his coffee in silence. But his eyes say it all. Zayn can feel the blood leaving his face as he processes Nick’s words. Harry will leave him. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but sometime in the near future. It’s enough to make Zayn’s blood run cold. Is Harry a whiny, annoying brat who is never quite sure what he wants? Sure. But that doesn’t make Zayn love him any less.

Fuck. He loves Harry so much. He loves Harry and Harry’s gonna leave him and – he’s yanked from his thoughts as Harry re-enters the room, jacket in hand. Maybe he just needs to give Harry some space. Maybe it’s time for him to find his own place. That will allow his and Harry’s relationship to develop at a more normal pace, right? Maybe living together so soon was a bad idea. They just need some time to miss each other.

“Is everything all right?” he asks, reading the tension in the room. “Were you telling lies about me Grimshaw?” he says teasingly.

“Everything’s fine,” Zayn says, trying to sound chipper. He must sound off, though, because Harry is giving him a strange look.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks him worriedly as they exit the building.

“Yeah, as I said everything’s fine.”

Zayn reaches out to slip his hand into Harry’s, but he stops himself as his fingertips brush the back of Harry’s hand. Nick’s words are still ringing in his ears. Is this too much? Will Harry find this too clingy? They haven’t been seeing each other more than a few months, but Zayn’s already so comfortable in this relationship that he reaches out to touch Harry without a second thought. Didn’t Nick say Harry would run at the first sign of comfort and domesticity? That his relationships rarely lasted more than a few weeks?

_You hold hands with Harry all the time_ , he thinks to himself. _You’re overthinking this. Harry did invite you to stay with him after all. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t want you around … right?_

Right. He reaches for Harry’s hand again, tangling his fingers with Harry’s as they head for lunch. But then another thought hits him.

_What if he’s too nice to ask you to leave?_

He extricates his hand from Harry’s as they arrive at the restaurant and shoves it into the pocket of his coat. Harry raises his eyebrows at Zayn as they get seated but doesn’t say anything. Zayn feels sick to his stomach. Maybe it really is time for him to start searching for a new place to live; he’s been intruding on Harry and Nick for long enough as it is and he hasn’t been paying rent.

Zayn opens his mouth to tell Harry that he’s going to start apartment hunting during the week but something stops him. _Don’t bother him with it, you can do this on your own you’re a grown man after all,_ he tells himself.

“Is everything okay babe?” Harry asks when he notices Zayn opening and closing his mouth without saying anything.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn says, not looking up from his menu.

“Were you going to say something?”

“Oh, uh, no not really. Was just gonna ask what you wanted to order,” Zayn lies, giving Harry a tight-lipped smile.

“They do this really great salad here I’ve been meaning to try. It has kale in it, it’s supposed to be really healthy -”

“That’s great,” Zayn interrupts. He can’t bear to listen to Harry rambling about fucking salad right now. Harry frowns.

“You sure you’re all right?” He asks, his forehead wrinkling in concern.

“I said I was, didn’t I?” Zayn says dismissively. Harry narrows his eyes at him, quietly assessing his expression.

“All right then,” Harry mutters, clearly not believing him.

“What was that?” Zayn avoids confrontation at all costs, but he feels itchy and irritated and tired and Harry’s going to leave him when he decides Zayn isn’t fun anymore and he can’t fucking handle it.

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me,” Zayn demands, putting his menu down and pursing his lips. He raises his eyebrows expectantly as Harry picks absentmindedly at the tablecloth.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?” Harry asks quietly.

“I told you nothing was wrong.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well that’s too bad.”

“Zayn, don’t be like this -”

“Be like what?” Zayn snaps, folding his hands in front of him and leaning forward challengingly.

“You’re picking a fight over nothing and I don’t know why.”

“Because you can’t leave me be. God! I told you nothing was wrong and you refuse to fucking believe me.” Harry’s lip quivers and he lowers his gaze to stare at the bread basket. Great. He’s making Harry cry. He sighs. “Look, I’m sorry, all right? Didn’t sleep well that’s all.”

Harry nods and gives Zayn a weak smile. Any further attempts to make conversation fall flat as they eat their meal, the air between them heavy with all the things left unsaid.

Zayn wishes desperately that things between them had returned to normal, but the tension of that afternoon follows them well into the week. Harry keeps shooting him worried glances when he thinks Zayn isn’t looking, but has ceased asking Zayn if he’s okay. He’s begun to turn away from Zayn when they sleep, instead of allowing Zayn to wrap himself around Harry like usual.

If Nick picks up on the strange energy between them he doesn’t say anything, but rather seems to enjoy the noticeable lack of physical proximity between the two, taking every available opportunity to be giggly and overly touchy-feely with Harry whenever Zayn’s around. Zayn wonders if Nick’s trying to make him jealous, trying to see what he can get away with before Zayn snaps.

By the week’s end Zayn is nothing more than a ball of stress, and it’s with great reluctance that he contacts a realtor, desperate to escape the unbearable tension he’s created.

He wishes he could talk to someone about his insecurities about his relationship with Harry, but seeing as most of his friends won’t talk to him after fucking things up so spectacularly with Perrie, and Liam refuses to talk about Harry, he’s left feeling lonely and desperate for some form of human interaction that isn’t laced with unease.

He doesn’t know why he does it; maybe it’s the fact that his boyfriend barely speaks to him anymore, or that fact that his best friend refuses to talk to him about his relationship problems, but he goes to a club alone one night two weeks later, eager to drown his sorrows in far too many shots of tequila. He’d spent the last week looking at apartments while Harry was at work, and had decided on a small one bedroom within walking distance of work. He thought he’d feel some sort of excitement at the thought of living alone for the first time – he’d had a roommate throughout Uni and had moved in with Perrie right after graduation – but instead he feels an overwhelming sense of emptiness.

He’s well past tipsy when a tall man with long brown hair and arms full of tattoos sidles up to him, cocktail in hand with an invitation to dance. _God, he looks like Harry._ He’s about to decline the man’s offer when he thinks better of it. Why can’t he have a bit of fun? It’s not like he’s going to _do_ anything.

Zayn is too drunk to dance properly, but that doesn’t stop the man from pressing up against his back, his breath hot in Zayn’s ear as he wraps his arms around Zayn’s torso. He knows he should pull away and head back home to Harry, but there’s something so _nice_ about being wanted, being paid attention to. He can’t though, he loves Harry despite everything, and he doesn’t want to fuck this up. Zayn turns to tell the man to back off when the man kisses him hungrily, grabbing his shoulders to pull him closer. Zayn doesn’t react for a moment, too stunned to do more than stand there as the man kisses him, but suddenly, right when he’s about the push the man off him, he’s yanked away by a furious looking Nick.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he yells, grabbing Zayn by the bicep.

“I -”

“I can’t fucking believe you. You ignore Harry and treat him like shit while you’re staying at _his_ place and then you go out and do this?”

“No, I promise -”

“What could you possibly have to say for yourself? It’s not like you don’t have a history of this,” Nick spits, looking at Zayn like he was something you’d find on the bottom of your shoe.

“He just kissed me I was going to push him away -”

“Oh, spare me the fucking excuses. Harry’s been miserable, he thinks you don’t love him anymore and you want to leave him.”

“But I don’t, I would never -”

“He saw some woman’s name on your call log, he thinks you’re cheating on him,” Nick says as he drags Zayn out of the club.

“I’m not,” Zayn says. His stomach lurches and he hurls on the side of the street, one hand braced against a lamp post to keep himself upright.

“God you disgust me,” Nick says with a curled lip. He hails a cab and pushes Zayn inside, slamming the door behind him. He gives the driver their address and refuses to look at Zayn, ignoring the way he’s slumped against the door.

“So, are you going to tell Harry or shall I?” Nick snaps as he hauls Zayn out of the car.

“Nick, I promise I was about to push him away I was just so surprised,” Zayn slurs.

“Right, well why don’t we see what Harry has to say about that shall we?”

“Zayn? Is that you?” Harry says as he pads out of his room, bleary eyed.

“I found your boyfriend at a club with some guy,” Nick says, depositing Zayn on the couch. Zayn tries to sit up but his head spins; he feels nauseous but he can’t make himself stand up to go to the bathroom.

“Harry,” he mumbles weakly before clapping his hand over his mouth. Harry hurries to the kitchen to bring him a bucket. Zayn dry heaves for a moment before his stomach finally turns and empties its contents into the bucket.

“Is that true Zayn?” Harry asks, gnawing on his bottom lip. His eyes fill with tears as he watches Zayn. All Zayn can do is groan in response as he empties his stomach again.

“Harry, why don’t we get him to sleep here and you can discuss it in the morning,” Nick says softly, putting his hand on Harry’s back soothingly. Harry nods and retrieves a spare blanket from his room. He gets Zayn a glass of water and helps him undress before allowing Zayn to curl up on the sofa and throwing the blanket over him. Harry absentmindedly reaches out to tuck a stray piece of hair out of Zayn’s face, his face full of worry.

“Nick, what happened?” Zayn hears Harry ask as they walk away.

“I found him at the club drunk off his arse with some guy,” Nick responds. Zayn’s eyes close as he starts to lose consciousness, but not before he hears Harry sob, “Please tell me he isn’t cheating on me, I couldn’t bare it.” The rest of the conversation is lost on him as he falls into a restless sleep.

-

Zayn wakes to hushed voices barely audible over the clinking of plates as Nick and Harry make breakfast. He sits up, his mistakes of last night blissfully forgotten as he observes Harry making coffee in the kitchen. Their conversation stops, however, when Nick looks over and see’s Zayn watching them sleepily from his nest on the sofa, and it all comes rushing back to him. Oh god. What has he done?

“Good morning sleeping beauty,” Nick says sarcastically. “Have a bad night?” His mouth tastes like something died in it, and he figures he can’t look much better.

“Zayn,” Harry says. “You need to tell me what happened last night.” His doesn’t turn to look at him, but the tense lines of his hunched shoulders tell Zayn all he needs to know about how Harry’s feeling. Zayn forces himself up off the sofa and sits at the kitchen table, fiddling with his hands as he tries to come up with an explanation.

“I was just feeling so upset. We weren’t really talking and I just needed to go out to unwind or whatever,” Zayn starts, his eyes following his fingers as they trace the patterns on the checkered place mats. “I was dancing with some random guy and I was about to tell him to stop ‘cos he was being too handsy and he kissed me.” Zayn’s voice breaks as he finally lifts his head to meet Harry’s gaze. Harry’s trying his hardest to keep his expression hard but his lip is quivering slightly. “I was so drunk, Harry, my love. He kissed me and I was so shocked I did nothing at first. I was about to push him off me when Nick showed up and yanked me away.”

Tears threaten to spill down Harry’s face as Zayn finishes. “Nick? Is that true?” Nick nods, his lips pursed as he watches their exchange. Harry takes a deep breath and wipes furiously at his red rimmed eyes.

“I just don’t get it Zayn, you’ve been weird with me for weeks now and I don’t know what I’ve done. Things were going great and all of a sudden you’re all distant and closed off.” Zayn debates whether to tell Harry about his conversation with Nick, whether to voice all of his insecurities about their relationship. He decides against it, worrying that it’ll seem like he’s making excuses.

“I was just feeling a bit under the weather that day, and you were the one who wouldn’t let it go. You haven’t tried to speak to me since then,” Zayn says. _Yeah, cos that’s loads better_. He wishes he could roll his eyes at himself.

“You were the one who was being all short with me though,” Harry argues. “You wouldn’t look at me and when I asked if you were okay you just got mad.”

“I told you what was wrong and you wouldn’t fucking listen,” Zayn retorts, his voice rising.

“All right, this is counterproductive.” Nick interjects. “Harry, why don’t you tell him what you told me yesterday.” Oh god.

“Your phone rang the other day while you were out of the room. I didn’t mean to look, but I saw some woman’s name. Something Smith? This wasn’t the first time I saw her name on your phone,” Harry hesitates, looking at Nick for encouragement. “Who is she Zayn?”

Zayn knows who he’s talking about; Sophia Smith, his realtor. Fuck, how can he explain that he’s moving out after all of this?

“You mean Sophia?”

“Oh god, are you sleeping with her?” Harry’s voice cracks.

“No! God, no. She my, um, my realtor?” Zayn says wincing.

“Your realtor? What the fuck Zayn, what do you need a fucking realtor for? You live here.” Harry’s confused for a moment before it hits him. “Oh my god you’re leaving me aren’t you?”

“What? No, I just thought -”

“I can’t believe this Zayn! After all we’ve been through, after all the bullshit I’ve had to put up with while you were still with Perrie and now you’re fucking leaving. I guess that stunt you pulled last night was you thinking ‘oh, well I’m going to dump him anyway so it doesn’t really matter if I cheat or not.’” Harry’s crying freely now, not bothering to wipe his tears away. Nick wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulders comfortingly, pulling him into his chest.

“Harry, I promise I have no intention of leaving you -”

“Well then what possible reason could you have for moving out? Don’t you like it here? Nick and I have been trying our hardest to make this seem like your place too,” Harry says, glaring at Zayn angrily.

“I wanted to give you some space –”

“Haven’t I made it clear Zayn? I don’t want space from you, I fucking love you. Why can’t you get that through your thick head?”

“Harry, I love you too, I just thought -”

“You thought what? When did I ever give you any indication that I wanted you to leave?”

“Well Nick said -”

Harry’s mouth drops open in disbelief. “Are you seriously trying to bring Nick into this? God you’re so immature.” He shakes his head and extricate himself from Nick’s grasp.

“Harry, please -”

“God I should’ve seen this coming,” he continues, ignoring Zayn’s pleas. “It took you ages to dump Perrie, even though you knew even before we met that you didn’t really love her. You just couldn’t handle being on your own. But I guess now you’ve tasted freedom and you don’t want to be held down anymore by silly little me.”

“That’s not it at all.”

“Have you found a place already?” Zayn nods.

“When were you going to tell me about this?” Harry demands.

“Well it’ll be ready on Monday -”

“Monday? What, were you going to wait to tell me until you were all moved in? Fuck you. You know what Zayn? Just go. If you want to leave so bad just fucking go.” Zayn’s eyes widen.

“Please, Harry, just let me explain.”

“I don’t want to hear it Zayn. Just go, have fun. I don’t need this.” Harry turns away, trying to busy himself with the washing up. Zayn’s shoulders slump. How could he have fucked it up this badly already?

His apartment won’t be ready for another couple of days, he supposes he could crash at Liam’s; hopefully he won’t make Zayn talk about it. He gathers up a duffel bag full of clothes, his phone charger, and his laptop, trying desperately not to let himself feel anything.

It doesn’t really hit him until he’s knocking at Liam’s door. He breaks down in sobs as Liam opens the door, his body shuddering as he remembers the look on Harry’s face as he walked out the door. Liam’s bewilderment is written plain as day on his face, but he opens his arms without a word.

“I fucked up Liam,” he sobs. “I fucked up so bad.”

-

Zayn spends the next few days in a trance. He eats without tasting and sleeps without dreaming. The only time he allows himself to feel anything are the hours he lies awake at night forcing himself not to call Harry. He can tell Liam’s worried, but he hasn’t said anything since Zayn refused to talk that first night when he showed up distraught on his doorstep. He can hear Liam and Louis’ concerned whispers when they think Zayn isn’t listening, he knows they figured something happened between him and Harry, but they give him his space, for which Zayn is eternally grateful.

When Monday rolls around, it’s with a heavy heart that Zayn accepts his keys, shrugging off Liam’s attempts to get him to stay with them a while longer.

“Zayn, I don’t think you should be alone right now,” he argues. Liam has a point, but he doesn’t say so, instead opting for “I’m all right, I just need some time to myself.”

“Look, I know something happened with you and Harry. Please just talk to me. I’ve never seen you this upset before.”

“I’m fine Liam, I just need some space. I haven’t been on my own in years, it’s time for me to be by myself for a while, get myself sorted out you know.”

They settle onto Zayn’s brand-new couch, drinking their way through two six-packs of beer, resolutely not talking about what should be talked about. They stay well into the night chatting, and despite what he said to Liam, he’s grateful for the company.

Just as they’re about to leave, Louis turns to him and says, “Look, I don’t particularly like how you two got together, but I know you really loved Harry and I think you should call him. Unless you did something absolutely unforgiveable, I doubt there’s anything the two of you can’t come back from.” Zayn doesn’t say anything, just nods to show he heard, but he mulls those words over in his head over the next few days.

Harry didn’t want to hear him out, but it’s been over a week, maybe he’ll be willing to listen know? He shuts that thought down though; if Harry wanted to talk to him he would’ve called, right? It was Harry who kicked him out after all.

His question is answered that night, when he’s woken by the shrill ringing of his phone at 2 in the morning.

“Hello? Harry?”

“Why did you do it, Zayn?” He’s drunk, Zayn notes.

“Do what?”

“Leave.”

“You asked me to,” Zayn says.

“You should’ve stayed. I wanted you to stay.”

“I wanted to stay too Harry, but you kicked me out.”

“You should’ve fought for me.”

“Harry -”

“No. You should’ve fought for me.”

“You wouldn’t listen.”

“Why didn’t you make me listen? If you really loved me you would’ve tried your hardest to stay. Instead you ran away when things got tough.”

“Harry? What’re you – god, please tell me you didn’t call him. Hang up the damn phone, Harry!” Zayn hears Nick’s muffled voice in the background and the call ends, leaving Zayn stunned.

He doesn’t sleep a wink that night, too busy tossing and turning as he remembers Harry’s words. Why didn’t he try harder? Was he sabotaging himself?

_Maybe I’m trying to ruin things before Harry gets a chance to see me for the mess I am._

Oh.

 There’s one thing he does know: he has to win Harry back.

 

HARRY:

It’s the fourth night in a row that Harry’s drunk. Something about the alcohol numbs that sharp, stabbing pain Harry feels every time he thinks of Zayn. Nick tried his hardest to get rid all the traces of Zayn after he left, but throwing out all his crap couldn’t erase the memories sown into Harry’s sheets, or the scent of his cologne that lingers on Harry’s clothing even after three turns in the wash.

He sees pieces of Zayn everywhere; in the eyes of the cashier at the local Tesco’s, in the laughter of a man talking to his girlfriend, in the smile of a tattooed stranger on the street. A model comes in to work on Tuesday that looks so much like Zayn that Harry bursts into tears right then and there, startling all his coworkers.

He eats poorly when he does remember to eat, and shaves infrequently, though that isn’t a big issue since he can barely grow facial hair as it is. It’s only at Nick’s insistence that Harry deigns to shower at all. The dark circles under his eyes that had been growing steadily darker since he and Zayn started having problems have only grown more pronounced, now resembling fresh bruises more than they resembled a sign of a lack of sleep. He can’t remember the last time he slept more than two hours at a time, each awakening only serving as a reminder that Zayn’s no longer occupying the other side of the bed.

Harry can’t bear to part with the rose ring, though. It’s the only physical reminder he has left that Zayn existed. Some nights he’ll sit in the darkness of his room, tracing the pattern of the silver leaves, hoping with all his might that Zayn’s thinking of him, hoping that he’s just as miserable as Harry is. 

He spends an inordinate amount of time sitting quietly in the living room, his finger hovering over Zayn’s number, wishing desperately to hear his voice but knowing he’ll never actually call. It’s on the fifth time Nick walks in to find him like that that he takes matters into his own hands, snatching Harry’s phone away to delete Zayn’s number. Harry just laughs. He could be 90 years old with Alzheimer’s and barely remember his own name and still remember Zayn’s number.

It’s not until Harry’s fourth shot of Absolut that he works up the courage to call Zayn, scurrying off to the privacy his bedroom, under the guise of getting a sweater, to avoid Nick’s watchful eye. He bites his fingernails anxiously as he waits for Zayn to pick up, half hoping he’s already asleep and they can avoid this conversation.

“Hello? Harry?” Despite himself, Harry feels an overwhelming sense of calm at the sound of Zayn’s voice.

“Why did you do it, Zayn?” He says. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Do what?”

“Leave.”

“You asked me to,” Zayn says.

“You should’ve stayed. I wanted you to stay.”

“I wanted to stay too Harry, but you kicked me out.”

“You should’ve fought for me.”

“Harry -”

“No. You should’ve fought for me,” he insists, an all too familiar pressure building behind his eyes.

“You wouldn’t listen.”

“Why didn’t you make me listen? If you really loved me you would’ve tried your hardest to stay. Instead you ran away when things got tough.” He presses the heel of his hand against the socket of his left eye, willing himself not to cry.

“Are you okay Harry?” he hears Nick say. Instinctively he curls in on himself as Nick enters his room.

“Harry? What’re you – god, please tell me you didn’t call him. Hang up the damn phone, Harry!” Nick yanks the phone out of Harry’s hand and ends the call.

“What are you doing? Are you fucking mental?” Nick demands.

“I just needed to hear his voice.” Harry says sadly. Nick crouches down next to him, resting his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“We’ve been over this. He’s no good for you, you can find someone a thousand times better,” he says softly.

“I don’t want better, I want Zayn.”

“Harry don’t be ridiculous.”

“He’s the only one for me Nick,” Harry says quietly.

“Oh please,” Nick scoffs. “You’ll find someone else in a heartbeat. Maybe not right now, but it will happen.”

“Don’t you get it Nick? I love him, I’m not interested in finding anyone else.” Harry sighs. “I’m going to bed, please leave.”

“Harry -”

“Just leave.”

After another night of disjointed sleep, Harry’s surprised to wake up to a text from Zayn.

_Can we talk?_

Harry’s hand shake as he responds with a simple _yes._

-

They meet several hours later at Zayn’s new apartment. It’s relatively close to Harry’s place, and he would be surprised that they hadn’t run into each other, but he hasn’t left his apartment except to go to work since Zayn left.

He’s nothing but a ball of nervous energy as he knocks on Zayn’s door, his palms slightly sweaty as he runs his fingers through his hair.

Zayn looks annoyingly good when he opens the door, but Harry supposes he always looks good. He can’t help but feel a slight sense of satisfaction when he notices the dark purple bruises under Zayn’s eyes, a sign that he hasn’t been sleeping well either.

“Harry, come in, please.” Zayn says, looking at Harry nervously. Looking at Zayn brings back all the hurt and confusion of the past week and Harry can barely muster up a half smile.

“So how’ve you been?” Zayn asks. Harry just shoots him a look. Really?

“Great,” he says sarcastically. He looks around the apartment. He seems to be all settled in, but the walls are devoid of decoration.

“Why haven’t you put any of your pictures up?” he asks.

“I, uh, haven’t been doing so great actually,” Zayn says, scratching at his beard. “I haven’t really been up to doing much lately.” Oh. “So, listen, your phone call last night got me thinking about us, and I really want to explain everything.”

 “Okay,” Harry says. He’s trying his hardest to keep his expression neutral but his heart feels like it’s racing a mile a minute. They sit opposite one another at Zayn’s new dining table, casting awkward glances at each other as Zayn musters up the courage to speak.

“I guess I should start by telling you why I was so upset that day. See the thing is that Nick had told me that you tended to latch on to people but got bored of them really quickly. I was afraid you’d do the same to me. He was going on and on about how you’d go after people then leave them the minute they stopped being entertaining and they’d be left wondering what went wrong and I got insecure I guess and I didn’t know how to talk to you about it. Didn’t want to look clingy did I.” Zayn rubs at his arms. He looks so vulnerable and Harry wants to wrap him up in a big fluffy blanket and kiss his face all over until he never dares to think something like that again. He doesn’t.

Instead he says, “What about thing at the club?”

“Like I said, I was feeling really down and you were acting weird and I just needed some time to clear my head. Liam refused to talk to me about it and Niall had told me it wouldn’t last, that staying together so soon would be too har, and I don’t know I just needed to fucking get out of the apartment for a bit. I swear I didn’t mean to kiss that guy. Since I met you there hasn’t been anyone else I’ve been interested in.” Zayn looks so weary in that moment and Harry wants to reach out and take his hand and tell him everything will be okay.

“I still love you, Harry,” he says, wide brown eyes staring at Harry. His heart seems to have climbed into his throat, and it takes all his will power not to launch himself across the table and into Zayn’s arms.

“Why didn’t you just tell me this Zayn? Why did you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about this? Did you really think I’d just leave you over nothing after everything we’ve been through?” He asks instead.

“I don’t know. I was so scared you’d leave me. I figured Nick had to be right, he’s known you a lot longer than I have after all. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me and I was so afraid of fucking it up that I fucked it up for myself.”

“Did you not trust me enough to tell me, though? I just don’t understand. The fact that I stuck around during that mess with Perrie, that I waited for you while you were off playing house with your girlfriend should’ve been enough to assure you that I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“I know,” Zayn says with a deep sigh. “I was an idiot I know that. I’ve never been the best at handling my feelings. I really hope you can forgive me. I’m so sorry babe, I love you.”

“Zayn, how do I know you won’t pull something like this again?” Harry feels like all the air has been sucked out of his lungs. _Zayn loves me, Zayn loves me, Zayn loves me._

“Do you still love me?” _Yes._

“Zayn, please, I need to know.”

“Do you love me?”

“Zayn -”

“Harry, please,” his voice is desperate now, pleading with Harry to say it back. He just can’t say it back, though, not until he has reassurance that Zayn trusts him, that Zayn will actually try to fight for him next time they hit a bump.

“I just need to know you’ll actually try to fight for me next time, that you won’t just give up next time and walk away when going gets tough.”

“I promise.”

“Promise what?”

“I’ll fight for you, no matter what happens I’ll fight for you, even if you never take me back.” He grasps Harry’s hand desperately. “You’re still wearing the ring,” He notes.

“Yes.”

“Do you love me?” Can he trust Zayn again?

“Yes.”

It’s almost comical the way Zayn’s expression changes, from desperate to sheer happiness in a matter of seconds. He stands up and walks over to Harry, his eyes gleaming as he takes Harry’s hands.

“Really? Can you forgive me?” Harry nods before standing up and wrapping Zayn in a big hug.

“I’m so sorry,” Zayn whispers into his neck, running his hands up and down Harry’s back.

His heart feels ready to burst as he smiles and kisses Zayn’s cheek, his long dark hair tickling his face. Then they’re kissing. Zayn’s hands come up to cup Harry’s face as their tongues meet, and finally, _finally_ , Harry remembers what it feels like to be happy.

Zayn walks them into his room and deposits Harry on his bed, stroking Harry’s cheeks reverently.

When they have sex, it’s more passionate and intense than anything Harry’s ever experienced. He feels like he comes alive when Zayn’s lips meet his skin, peppering searing hot kisses along his neck and down his chest. Zayn takes his time undressing Harry, pressing soft kisses to Harry’s inner thighs as he peels off his jeans, and sucking a mark against Harry’s neck as he slides the soft fabric of his shirt down his arms.

Harry wraps his fingers around his already hard cock, his movements slow as he waits for Zayn to get undressed. Zayn smacks his hand away as he reaches into his night stand for a packet of lube, grinning wickedly at Harry as he slicks up his fingers and touches Harry’s rim. Harry’s head falls back onto the pillow, and he has to bite his knuckles to keep from touching his dick again. He gives in when Zayn slides a finger in, though, tugging desperately at his cock.

“Do I have to restrain you,” Zayn says, his voice low and sultry, his left hand already coming up to pin Harry’s wrist to the bed as he slides another finger in.

“Zayn, please,” Harry moans. “I’m ready babe please.”

“It’s too soon love,” he whispers, kissing Harry’s collarbone. He slips another finger in and does his best to scissor them, his desperation evident in the way he starts rutting slightly against the bed.

After what seems like an hour, Zayn deems him ready and removes his fingers, wiping them off on the sheets before reaching for a condom and lubing himself up. Harry’s a whimpering mess beneath him, his face flushed a deep red and his cock steadily leaking precome against his lower belly. He forces himself to open his eyes as he watches Zayn line himself up against his rim, his pupils dilated and his forehead glistening with sweat.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut when he feels Zayn slide in, his legs coming up to wrap around Zayn’s waist. Zayn pauses as he bottoms out waiting for Harry to adjust to the stretch, his arms shaking with the effort of holding still. Harry curls one hand around Zayn’s neck, in desperate need of something to hold on to as Zayn starts thrusting, slowly at first but picking up his pace as Harry digs his heels into the backs of Zayn’s thighs, egging him on.

Zayn drops his head to rest his forehead against Harry’s, their breath intermingling in the tight space between them. Harry reaches back to grip the headboard as Zayn’s thrusts quicken, his fingers itching to grip at his cock. Sensing this, Zayn grabs a pillow and motions for Harry to lift up before shoving it under his hips. Harry gasps, this new angle allowing Zayn to hit him just right. His right hand grabs at the sheets as Zayn reaches for his cock, tugging him off in short, tight strokes that make his toes curl as he nears his end.

“I love you,” he whispers against Harry’s lips, his thrusts becoming erratic as Harry starts to clench around him. Harry’s eyes roll back into his head as he comes, his legs shaking as his thighs let up their firm grip around Zayn’s waist. It doesn’t take Zayn long before he comes, his face buried in Harry’s sweaty neck as he rides out the aftershocks.

When he comes to he pulls out, discarding the condom in the bin by the door and wiping Harry down with some tissues. He curls up next to Harry, wrapping his arm around his torso and kissing his sweaty shoulder. Harry’s never felt safer. He turns his head to look at Zayn.

“I love you too,” he says, a small smile on his face.

They fall asleep like that, arms wrapped around each other, and legs intertwined with the sheets.

-

Harry wakes to the smell of eggs cooking on the stove. He pads into the kitchen and buries his face in the crook of Zayn’s neck, breathing in his scent. He smells of warmth and sweat and something else that’s distinctly _Zayn_.

They eat at the table, exchanging smiles over glasses of orange juice and scrambled eggs. The sun is streaming through the kitchen window and the air is fresh and warm. It’s not a perfect kind of love they share, but it’s lasting, and nothing else will do.


End file.
